Partners
by DaisyDay
Summary: **THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER!** Sean is determined to find the killer of his ex-colleague, and he enlists Michelle and Edgar to help him. Will THIS be the case that brings them together?
1. Chapter 1

(Most characters are part of the King and Maxwell universe)

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**KING AND MAXWELL**

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PARTNERS

Chapter 1

_(A/N: The show always starts off with them in the middle of a mini-case before the big episodic case. This is my version of the obligatory opening scene.)_

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The all-glassed Space Corporation building was located 20 miles from Washington DC. Its business was to provide military satellite intelligence for the government.

It was lunchtime now and most civilian and military personnel were mulling about, some on their way to the cafeteria on the premise, others about to run errands, and the rest to eat lunch at the various nearby restaurants.

And approaching this lunchtime crowd was Michelle Maxwell.

She stopped thirty feet short in order to scan the crowd, looking for a particular person. Although she didn't see her target among the crowd, she spotted someone else of significance to her; that being her working partner, Sean King.

From inside the crowd Sean turned his head to look beyond the deluge of people and finally located Michelle. For a split second, their gazes lingered longer than necessary, but they both knew they had a job to accomplish. Sean nodded knowingly at her before covertly gesturing with his eyes and head, directing her to the right of him.

Michelle quickly caught on and looked towards the direction he indicated.

Amidst the throng of people, she saw a tall, suit and tie man pushing a stout, dark-haired man in a wheelchair. The two certainly looked innocent enough; just co-workers, talking casually with one another. The office worker was now pushing the man in the wheelchair down one of the many handicapped ramps at the facility. Michelle continued intensely watching the two, never taking her eyes off of them.

The intended had been sighted and it was time to act.

Michelle quickened her pace and she could see Sean also making his way towards the two individuals. However, with the rush of the noontime employees all around him, it would take him longer to reach the target. Of course, she could have waited for Sean to reach them before doing anything, but as usual, she chose to act on her own being that time was of the essence.

The tall office worker was the first to notice Michelle approaching them. He looked confused and Michelle was afraid he would turn and soon be lost in the lunch crowd again. She better do something quick.

"_Hey, you! Stop right there! I'd like to talk with you!"_ she pointed her finger at the two of them just as they reached the bottom of the ramp.

The nondescript office worker looked to his left, right, and then behind. Michelle was coming up fast upon him. Staring straight at her, the office worker then questionably pointed at himself, as if to ask, _who me?_

_"No, not you!"_ she yelled at the office worker. She next pointed her finger decisively at his co-worker, the individual in the wheelchair, _"I mean YOU!"_

It only took a split second for the supposedly invalid man in the wheelchair to react. Pushing off from the armrest of the wheelchair, he hoisted himself up and quickly he was on his feet, running away from her.

Just as she suspected.

"Oh _nooo_, you don't!" she warned as she also took off in a fast sprint after him.

The background buildings all seemed like a blur as Michelle ran after the man. With Michelle's long, toned legs, she was able to cover a long distance in a short amount of time. The running man's legs was stubby for his body, so he was no match for her. She was gaining momentum and when she was a couple of feet behind him, she suddenly took a giant leap and landed onto his back.

"Dammit! Get OFF ME!" he yelled disgustedly behind himself at her.

He twirled about, trying to throw her off, but Michelle held firm. Eventually the imbalance caused both of them to fall, and now they were rolling on the floor. Michelle knew she would risk being squashed so she rolled away from the suspect.

They both got up and faced each other, like two wrestlers in a match. Michelle was breathing hard as she eyed him and she could feel her heart hammering. But those reactions were more from excited anticipation.

The suspect made the first move. He cocked his fist and took a swing at her. But with her fast reflexes, she managed to duck and his fist connected with empty air.

_ Goody, it's __my__ turn now_, she thought euphorically.

Her arm shot out like a piston and she delivered a sharp punch to his solar plexus. She purposely aimed for the network of nerves located behind the abdomen, considered one of the most vulnerable areas of the human body. The hit caused her opponent to stumbled backwards.

"Ooofff!" he gasped.

_"Give it up, Paxton!"_ she yelled at him, as she intently eyed him.

He recovered and got into a ready to fight stance, "Go to hell, lady," Paxton gruffly responded, "I don't know nothin!"

"That I already know!" she exclaimed as she once more went into attack mode.

She managed to land a kick on the bottom of the Paxton's rib cage. He momentarily had the air taken out of him again and she followed it up with a knifed hand to his neck, causing his eyes to bulge out. He was stunned, but he was not giving up just yet.

Paxton's hand formed a fist and aimed it at Michelle's face, and she could not get out of the way fast enough. Instead, she turned her head quickly to lessen the impact. The punch caught her jaw. Pain exploded in that area, but she considered herself lucky. Better that the fist struck the hard bone of the jaw rather than the soft tissues of Michelle's eyes or nose.

She was determined to end this. At the first sign of an opening, she quickly swept her entire leg underneath his, causing him to fall hard this time to the ground. She stomped on his stomach. He tried to get up but then fell back down, moaning; his body in total agony. She then quickly rolled him over and straddled his back. Taking out zip ties from her back pocket, she cuffed his hands behind his back.

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Meanwhile Sean was casually waiting just where Michelle last saw him...next to the emptied wheelchair. Beside him was FBI agent Rigby, whom he had called earlier, along with his partner. Neither Rigby or Carter looked happy to be called here.

Michelle couldn't help being sarcastic with Sean when she walked up to her partner, while escorting a wrist-tied Paxton.

"Some backup earlier would've been nice, Sean," she said, "I mean, what would be the advantage of standing here, guarding an unoccupied wheelchair?"

Sean didn't skip a beat in answering.

"I'm not here merely to guard a wheelchair, Michelle," he corrected her casually, "I'm here to guard the _valuables._"

Sean then reached over to the wheelchair and made a show of unscrewing one of the rubber grips from the steel frame, which had acted like a empty tube. He took out a rolled paper of some type of drawing. Next, he looked underneath the cushion and pulled out a disk, holding it up for everyone to see.

"Looks like we found the traitor spy from Space Corporation," Sean announced, showing the rolled up drawing and the disk to Rigby, "Seems our so-called disabled engineer has been smuggling out drawings, disks and any other secret papers to the competitor."

Paxton, the accused man, glared at Sean. Rigby had seen enough as he gestured to Carter, "Arrest this man for treason," he ordered.

Carter was right on it; reading the suspect his rights. As the man was being escorted away by the feds, Sean and Michelle stood next to each other, watching the FBI agents put the ambulatory engineer in their vehicle.

"Sean," Michelle questioned him as they watched the vehicle drive away, "You think Rigby will ever give us credit for a job well done?"

"I've known of Rigby's reputation for a long time, Michelle," philosophized Sean, "He's been known as being _grumpy_ and _negative_. But thanks to us, I think he's turned his life around. Now he's _negative_ and _grumpy._" he explained, purposely juxtaposing the two adjectives, while still maintaining a straight face.

Michelle couldn't help laughing.

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They arrived back to their office, which was a lakeside beachhouse. Edgar was already in the office busily working the books when they walked in.

"By the way," Michelle was saying as she hung up her jacket, upon entering, "How did you know that Tim Paxton was a wheelchair fraud and a spy and that he had also been sneaking company secrets out via his wheelchair?"

"Simple really," Sean stated as he sat down and leaned back in his office chair, "when we had interviewed him along with the other employees, he said he had been in the wheelchair due to a motorcycle accident five years ago. Yet, when I shook his hand, he had blisters. If he had been pushing himself in the wheelchair all that time, he would have had calluses by now."

"Hmm..." Michelle gave a _not bad_ expression, "Makes sense."

Sean confidently placed his hands behind his head in a relaxed position, "You have learned from the Master, " Sean stated modestly.

Michelle rolled her eyes, "The more I listen to you, the more I appreciate everyone else _but_ you."

Sean grinned, appreciating Michelle's humor. He looked her way and found himself staring into her beautiful blue eyes. Her captivating expression was always so open, so inviting and right now he could not seem to look away. She, too, was just as mesmerized and Michelle could feel her cheeks getting warm as she tried to stop her inner flutterings. It was at that moment that Edgar raised his head from the accounting books, breaking their shared moment.

"Sean," Edgar inquired, in his usual monotone voice, "Did you get paid for that last job? When you get paid, we get money."

Michelle looked down, trying to hide a smile. Sean got up from his chair. He was glad for the interruption. Lately he had been having thoughts about Michelle that didn't concern the business. He now stood over Edgar, put his hands on the desk, and slightly leaned in.

"It doesn't work that way, Edgar," Sean stated patiently, "once a job is done, we send an invoice, and THEN we get paid. You know that's how it works."

Edgar seemed to be looking at different spots of the room, "the policy needs to change, Sean. Change is good. We need to get paid with a faster, different policy."

"Always about the money, Edgar?" Sean would try to reason with him, "Haven't you ever heard of the saying that money can't buy happiness?"

"...I know that money can help us stay miserable in comfort, Sean." Edgar rebounded, not looking directly at either of them.

"He has a point there, Sean," Michelle stated solemnly, fighting the smile.

"Whose side are you on?" Sean asked.

"The paying side," Michelle stated. And then when Sean gave her a look that said _Get Edgar to stop nagging us,_ she got the point.

"You don't have to worry so much about us getting paid, Edgar," Michelle nicely assured him, "let me handle the matter. That way we can be sure we'll get paid for a job."

"Guns should not be used to clean up paperwork, Michelle, " Edgar politely commented, his head buried in their accounting book.

"He has a point there, Michelle," Sean chimed in, annoyingly repeating what she had just said to him seconds earlier.

Now it was Michelle's turn to look irked, "Okay, Edgar, so I won't use a _gun_ as a method to collect money. I guess whenever we need payment I'll just have to _beat _it out of them."

"I guess that's why we call them deadbeats," Edgar stated drolly, not bothering to look up.

A snort could then be heard while Sean and Michelle exchanged playful glances.

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_(Ta-Dah! I'm the first story on this new site! Hopefully this will be chapter 1 of a multi-chapter if there is any interest here. If not, I guess this will be a one-shot! Please read and review and help support this wonderful show.)_


	2. Chapter 2

The Real Case Begins

Chapter 2

The next morning Sean and Edgar were at the office houseboat. Since there was no case to pursue, Edgar kept busy by wiping down his friendly desk while Sean was reading a book.

The door opened and Michelle came in, carrying a stack of letters and one large yellow manila envelope.

"Snail- mail has arrived," she announced as she placed it on Edgar's desk.

Edgar momentarily stopped his wiping, "S_nail mail_ ... unusual phrase, Michelle," he commented in his usual flat tone, "Snails are considered terrestrial pulmonate gastropod mulluscs. No connection to a system of transporting letters and documents to destinations around the world."

Michelle raised one eyebrow and turned to her working partner, "Sean, do you want to take this one?"

Sean looked at Edgar, "Edgar, think of it this way...does a snail go fast or _slo-ow_?"

"A snail travels 3/100 miles per hour, Sean," Edgar factually pointed out, as he picked up the stack of delivered mail to organize it, according to the area code.

"And what else?" spurred on Sean.

"Snails are deliberate and plodding..." Edgar added, and then without changing expressions or tone, an idea struck him, " ...oh, I get it ..._slow:_ deliberate and plodding... snail-mail refers to _slow_ mail."

Michelle and Sean looked amused as Edgar completed his mail arrangement.

"You know, speaking of mail," Sean speculated, as he put his book aside, "when you think about it, there is an air of romanticism to letter writing and mail delivery. The writer takes his time to compose a private letter with no abbreviations, no _cc's_ and in complete sentences. And then it's hand-carried to the receiver, complete with an impressive collectible stamp affixed to the envelope. In comparison to the social media outlets of today, it's a charming way to communicate, wouldn't you say, Michelle?"

He watched her as she sat casually on Edgar's desk and crossed her legs. Sometimes Sean found it hard to concentrate...until she opened her mouth.

"I think, Sean, that, once again, you've been reading too many of those romantic novels."

"Killjoy," Sean murmured under his breath, as Michelle smiled.

Meanwhile Edgar had begun looking through the mail. He was sorting the letters into what needed to be discarded.

"Advertisement..." Edgar glanced at the return addresses,"...more advertisement, bill for water, advertisement, bill for rent, advertisement, advertisement..."

He tossed the mail ads in the trash while setting aside the others.

"We need more spindle action, Sean," Edgar commented, "and less bills."

"We need _some_ kind of action," agreed Michelle as she folded her arms. She then watched Edgar staring at the return address of the large manila folder, "Whatcha got there, Edgar?"

"Not good, not good, ..." Edgar repeated in that same lifeless tone. Curiously, Sean looked over.

"Let me see, Edgar." Sean said, holding out his hand. He accepted the envelope and scowled at the name on the return address, "Humph! I don't believe it!"

"Why? Who is it from?" Michelle inquired.

Sean was still looking at the envelope "it's from Rick Thunder."

"Rick Thunder?" Michelle repeated, questionably, "Is that a Superhero's name, or some type of weather, Sean?"

"The name of a regular person, Michelle, although that wasn't the name Rick Thunder was born with," Sean stated still staring at the name, "he didn't think he could drum up any business as Marion Nelson. Thus _Rick Thunder_ was born. And yes, he is as cocky as his name sounds. I haven't heard from my old friend for quite some time."

"_Really?_" Michelle questioned.

"Yes, it's been almost two years!" cited Sean.

"No," Michelle corrected him, "what I meant was...he was_ really_ a friend of yours?"

Sean gave her 'a look', "You act as if I don't have _any _friends!"

"I am your friend, Sean." Edgar reminded him.

"Yes, you _are_, Edgar," Sean gave a smug look to Michelle, _"Satisfied?_"

"Okay, you have _one _friend, and what that means is you'll never be a third wheel anywhere_,_" Michelle teased.

"You're his friend, too, Michelle," Edgar interjected.

Sean shot a look at Michelle to see her reaction. She had unfolded her arms, "Well...I..." she looked flustered, "I _suppose,_ Edgar...if you use a loose definition for the term _a friend_" she cleared her throat, "...but we weren't talking about me anyway, were we?" she rushed her words, "So who is this Rick Thunder to you, Sean?"

He smirked.

"Actually, Rick was not really a friend_ per se._..not even in a_ loose definition_ kind of way," Sean admitted, "He was basically my first partner when I started out as a private investigator."

Michelle's eyes widened at this news, "Oh, really? I didn't realize you had a partner before me."

"That's because it was over before anyone could blink," Sean explained, "Rick and I lasted as PI partners for less than two weeks."

"So it didn't take long for him to see the light with you?" grinned Michelle.

Sean looked her way, "Let's just say Rick Thunder is the type of guy who may not stab you in the back _but_ he _will_ stab you in the _front_. We saw the work of PI's differently. I wanted to help people and he wanted to help himself. So he left and opened up his own firm and became my competitor."

"Interesting," Michelle commented, "Was he successful on his own as a PI?"

"Yes and no," Sean said, " Rick Thunder was an excellent private investigator, meticulous with details, but then he broke the cardinal rule of PI's -he was easily corrupted. He began to blackmail the persons he had under surveillance in return for not turning the evidence over to his clients. In other words, he was double dipping, and it didn't matter who got hurt as he dipped."

Michelle squelched her face at the thought of Thunder's unethical handling of PI work.

"It's people like him that give private investigators like us a bad rap," Michelle commented.

"But his spindle was full," Edgar stated as he indicated their own empty one.

"That may be true, Edgar," Michelle pointed out, "but at least we can say we have integrity."

"Integrity doesn't buy soup on Mondays, Michelle," Edgar pointed out.

Sean was not involved in the conversation as he was busy opening the envelope. He pulled out two files and a homemade DVD. Setting aside the files, he stared at the DVD, turning it over slowly in his hands.

Michelle tilted her head, "A DVD? Wonder what's on it?"

"We won't know until we play it on Edgar's computer," Sean said, as he handed the DVD to Edgar.

Edgar took the DVD and loaded it onto his computer.

Sean and Michelle gathered closer together to view the contents of the DVD. They both huddled together, looking over Edgar's shoulder. As they waited, Sean and Michelle soon became aware of how close they stood physically to one another.

It made Sean's insides tightened and for Michelle it brought on a pleasurable stirring of sensations. Unintentionally their bodies seem to be almost shoulder to shoulder, closing the gap further.

"You two are crowding me," Edgar declared over his shoulder as Sean and Michelle awkwardly exchanged glances before putting more space between them again. They both forced down any further personal thoughts, trying to concentrate on the dark computer screen.

Soon there was an image.

_They could now make out a stool in the center of a plush living room. The camera's view was being blocked by someone who was adjusting the angle of the camera. It was obvious the person operating the camera would soon be the one in front of it. Once the adjustments were completed, the lone figure then walked over to the stool and sat down on it._

Sean pointed at the screen, "That's Rick Thunder."

_The three of them viewed the attractive man, with the salt and pepper hair, sitting on the stool. Rick Thunder was roughly the same age as Sean and he had managed to maintain his youthful physique along with his trademark tan. He had a boyish smirk on his face when he addressed the camera._

"_Sean, my boy! _" Thunder began in a friendly tone, "_It has been awhile and I fault myself for that. But enough of the pleasantries..." _his tone was now more solemn_, " I don't mean to be overdramatic, because it's not my style, but if you are watching this, it means __I am dead__."_

Michelle sucked in her breath at the last three words. When she looked over at Sean, he had an intense look on his face as he watched the screen.

_"Looking back, I've lived a good life. Yes. I've broken a few hearts, traveled the world like a movie star, and earned more money than I could spend; but along the way, I've also made some enemies, too." _

_ " I believe one of them had me killed, Sean. Sad to say, I've not always been on the straight and narrow with the people who hired me, nor with the people I had under surveillance... Go figure, right? I guess this is karma coming back around to bite me in the you-know-where. Rather unfair, if you ask me."_

Thunder took a deep breath before he made his point, "_I think the killer is someone from my last two cases. You have all the suspects right there in the two folders I've sent to you. I have threatened several people in those files that if anything happened to me, all the dirt I had on the person would go public through my lawyer. I guess they called my bluff, buddy."_

Thunder's look now changed to one of sincerity.

"_I've never told you this, Sean, but I've always thought you were the best in the field. Unfortunately your honorable intentions is also what has kept you broke. It's that Boy Scout attitude of yours, of always wanting to help everyone. But now, I'm counting on that decency of yours to find my killer. The two folders contain my two cases I was working on before my demise." _

Thunder then added this part with reluctance, _"Sean, I do realize that once you start investigating my cases, they might reinforce the idea that what I've done was not always honorable. I hope you will not feel contempt for me. Just remember the good times...we had bonded for those two short weeks over shared tequilas, hadn't we? So I trust you to find justice for me."_

He then took a deep breath in, as if he were trying to find courage from within.

_"And Sean, when you __do__ find my killer, make him pay and tell him I'll see him in hell."_

The computer screen became dark again.

Sean and Michelle exchanged glances.

Edgar spoke out, his question sounding more like a statement."Will you two take this case, Sean."

Sean glanced over at Michelle who nodded an ever so slightly _yes_. He smiled back at her. Despite Michelle's tough chick exterior, she had a heart as big as all of Washington DC.

"Yes we will, Edgar," Sean determined, "and even though you worry about getting paid, _this time _you have a right to be because we _won't_ get paid. We can't collect a fee from a dead man," he stated, "_but_ we are going to take this case based on principle, which is important, too, right?"

Edgar showed no emotion.

"It will be a long time before the spindle will be used again, Sean," he deadpanned.

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_(A big thanks for anyone who reviewed, alerted or favored this story. I am very grateful. Please stay with this story!)_

_Please review._


	3. Chapter 3

From the Frying Pan into the Fire

Chapter 3

Sean and Michelle decided to first investigate Rick Thunder's office. Perhaps his place of business would hold further clues. If Sean remembered correctly, Thunder's office was located in a strip mall, near downtown. Along with Thunder's cheap office storefront, the strip mall also contained a convenience store, a beauty salon and a pizza joint as well. It was the typical urban eyesore.

Sean drove while Michelle sat on the passenger side of the car.

"Sean, I understand why you took this case..._but_..."

"...but, what?" Sean asked as he stopped at a light.

"WHY did we have to start investigating so early...it only 7 a.m.!" she wanted to know.

"I'm surprised you're even complaining, Michelle. After all,_ you're_ the one that's a morning person," Sean reminded her as the light turned green and he accelerated, "the only way I could be a morning person is if mornings happened around noontime."

Michelle smiled at his wry comment.

"I'm not complaining about it being early, Sean," she stated, "it's just that this is my workout time. I'm usually at the gym. Using the elliptical alone takes me at least an hour."

Of course Sean knew that. Without even realizing it, they knew each other's lifestyles quite well, including morning routines.

"Oh-oh... you're not going to tell me _another_ workout story, are you?" Sean asked as he made a left turn.

Michelle turned to face Sean, "I didn't realize I was boring you with my gym anecdotes."

"Oh _no_, nothing like _that_," Sean said sarcastically.

" I can't help it if _I'm_ motivated to work out." she stated, "After all, exercise helps get the adrenaline going, starts my day out right. And. actually, I was hoping my gym stories might help to motivate _you_ to work out, too."

"Let me put it this way, Michelle," he said, "unless you fell off the treadmill and ended up with your posterior sticking up in the air, workout stories are not really that interesting."

She sat back and folded her arms.

"You just don't want to hear a reminder that you need to workout," she stated.

A part of her realized that sometimes they sounded like a bickering couple. And instead of being repelled by it, she actually enjoyed it.

Sean checked his rear view mirror, "For your information, Michelle, I _used_ to go to a gym. But then the gym and I broke up. We just weren't _working out_," he stated straight faced.

Michelle's petulant mood changed as she laughed; she couldn't help it. Despite fighting against it, she enjoyed Sean's company more than she should.

Sean, meanwhile was wondering how come he took such delight in their bantering. He NEVER felt this way with his ex-wife. Then again, maybe that's why she was his ex. As he and Michelle drove closer to the destination, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something did not feel right.

As it turned out, he had been correct about his misgivings.

From the looks of it,, the strip mall must have been engulfed in flames last night. All that was left now was the gutted, scorched skeleton of the long building. As they got out to approach the scene, the scent of smoke was still heavy in the air.

Yellow caution tape had roped off the area, but instead of police, it was the FBI. Sean and Michelle went under the tape to get closer to the scene. All around was charred debris. Arson investigators were carefully picking through the burned up rubble trying to determine the cause of the blaze. FBI agents mulled around, talking to CSI and arson experts.

And of course the lead FBI agent HAD to be Agent Frank Rigby along with his partner Agent Darius Carter. At one point, Rigby had looked up from his discussions and when he spotted Sean and Michelle, a look of annoyance crossed his face. He walked over to them, intent on kicking them out of the crime scene.

"Hello, Agent Rigby," Sean put on his brightest smile, but it wasn't fooling Rigby.

"Gah!" Rigby responded, looking at both Sean and Michelle with disdain, "Could my day _get _any worse?"

"And it's nice to see you, too, Rigby," Michelle said sweetly.

"Please confess to me that you two are the arsonists," Rigby suggested. When he didn't get an answer, he gave a frustrated look, "so if you're not here so that I can arrest you, then tell me, why are you both here?"

"We were going to ask you the same thing, Rigs," Sean stated all friendly-like, "Shouldn't this be a police matter? How is a burned out strip mall connected to the FBI?"

"That is none of your business and don't call me _Rigs_," Rigby stated in his no nonsense way, "so answer me; _why,_ of all the wonderful places in the world, did you two elect to come here and make my life miserable?"

"We'll show you _ours_ if you show us y_ours_," Michelle playfully promised.

"Yeah, come on Rigby, on the count of three, all of us just say why we are here," Sean jovially proposed, "Okay, now...1...2...3..."

Rigby sighed but reacted.

"RICK THUNDER!" Sean and Michelle said at once.

"...Rick Thunder," Rigby stated, a half of a beat later.

There was a slight pause.

"Wait a minute, here," Sean stated, "if you're here because of Thunder, I'm assuming it's because he must have helped the FBI in some kind of capacity -perhaps as an informant?"

Rigby's non-responsiveness told them Sean had hit it on the nose.

"And the reason you two are here?" Rigby inquired, choosing to ignore Sean's theory.

"Rick Thunder was a pal of mine," Sean stated, stretching the truth slightly.

Rigby snorted, "Figures. Of course you and Thunder would pal around. It wasn't as though Thunder was a _rea_l private investigator, either; he was nothing more than a paid con man. Once again proving the point that birds of a feather flock together."

"And a bird does not sing because he has the answer," Sean stated randomly, "he sings because he has a song."

"What?" Rigby looked confused.

"What?" Sean repeated, annoying Rigby further.

"Don't mind Sean; he's just repeating something he read from a fortune in a fortune cookie," Michelle explained.

Rigby gave a look as if he could care less.

Just then Carter came out up from the side of a building, "Hey, Rigby, over here," he waved towards the side of the building, "Looks like the coroner found something in the alley."

Rigby became all business again as he ignored Sean and followed Carter to the alley. Sean gestured to Michelle, and then they, too, proceeded to follow the agents down backstreet.

Next to the burnt building in the narrow alleyway, they found a man wearing a jacket with the words 'CORONER' emblazoned on the back. He indicated to them something he found in the trash bin. Sean immediately walked right up to the coroner.

"What's the story here?" Sean blurted out without any introductions.

The coroner stared at Sean, "Who the hell is _he?_"

"Never mind that. Just tell us what you've got here." Michelle gave the coroner her most official sounding voice.

The coroner pointed at Michelle, "Who the hell is _she?_"

"No one important," Rigby declared, "Just tell us what you found out, Thompson."

Coroner Thompson then directed all his comments to the FBI agent.

"I'm still trying to figure that out, Agent Rigby," the coroner stated as he motioned towards the bin, "All I can tell you is that the victim was a male and whoever he was, he was burnt extra crispy last night."

Their gazes followed the coroner's and looking in the bin, they saw a charred corpse curled amidst the burnt trash. The tremendous heat from the fire had dehydrated the victim's muscles, causing them to contract and twist the body into that crimped position.

Rigby, Carter, and Michelle took one quick look and turned away. One look was enough. Sean, however, couldn't take his eyes off the burnt corpse.

"Any identification yet?" Rigby questioned the coroner.

"You're kidding me, right?" coroner Thompson sounded irritated, "the victim was nearly cremated. There's almost no skin or subcutaneous tissue left. Call me in the morning after I've had a chance to get a closer look. Who knows? If you're lucky, I might be able to tell you the cause of death."

"I'm guessing '_fire'_ was the cause of his death," Carter said, as a shiver ran down his body.

"I wonder how he ended up in the trash bin?" Michelle wondered outloud.

"If it's Rick Thunder's body," Sean theorized, "maybe the killer tossed him in the trash and set him aflame to make a statement. Then the killer torched his office to destroy Thunder's files and any evidence that leads to him."

"Or," suggested Rigby, "Thunder is the killer and he murdered someone, setting his office on fire to divert attention away from this body."

Sean shook his head, "Thunder may have been a scum bucket and a blackmailer, but he was no murderer."

Michelle then turned to Agent Carter, "Were you able to talk with the fire investigators? Which fire started first, the one in the trash bin or the one in the building?"

"They don't have that answer yet," Carter responded, "When the firefighters had arrived, both the building and the bin were already fully engulfed. Right now they are collecting samples from the point of origin and from this trash bin and running them through the vapor trace analyzer."

"So we won't know the answer until later," Sean said, regretfully.

"Let me guess," said Rigby drolly, "You're using your psychic skills as a private investigator to draw useless conclusions."

Sean stared expressionless at him, "Bad sarcasm causes stress, Rigby. Relax. Maybe you need to take a deep breath...and hold it for about 20 minutes."

_Touché, _Michelle smiled to herself.

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Edgar was at his usual friendly desk when Sean and Michelle arrive back at the beach house office.

Michelle was the first to walk in and she removed her jacket as she spoke to Sean, "So what do you make of the case so far? Do you think Rick Thunder is really dead?" She sat on Edgar's desk.

Sean followed after her and sat at his own desk, "If Rick is dead, he didn't die last night."

Michelle looked baffled.

"Sean, there was a burnt corpse that tells us otherwise," she claimed.

Edgar interjected, "Burnt corpses cannot talk, Michelle."

Michelle turned to Sean.

"Sean, according to fire inspectors, the body had been burned the previous night."

"And I'm telling you that the body burnt wasn't Thunder's," Sean said evenly.

Michelle's mouth made a small 'o'. For some reason, Sean found watching her lips that way very attractive.

"What makes you think that body wasn't Thunder's?" she asked.

"I thought it was obvious," Sean said, "it's because the post office doesn't move that fast."

"Slow post office; _snail mail_," recited Edgar, "which refers to the lag-time between the dispatch of a letter to its recipient."

"I hope," Michelle continued her conversation to Sean, " you are not inferring that the _post office _put a hit on Thunder?"

"No," Sean said, "but just think about the timeline, Michelle. I got the manila envelope this morning. If Thunder had been burnt toast last night, how had his lawyer been able to get it mailed to us so quickly?"

"Why didn't you say all of this in front of Rigby?" Michelle wondered.

"Because this is our case. Besides, I don't like his personality," Sean stated, "he's all anger without the enthusiasm."

She grinned. Michelle already knew that Sean was determined to solve this mystery on his own without the FBI's help since that had been Rick Thunder's last request. At the image of Thunder in her mind, another thought entered her mind and she looked grim again.

"But even if the burnt body wasn't Thunder's, he's still must be dead somewhere," Michelle concluded, "after all, you did receive the manila envelope."

It broke her heart to see Sean's eyes filled with sorrow. That was an expression she rarely saw on his face.

"Yeah," Sean heaved a disappointed sigh, "there's that."

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_Please review._


	4. Chapter 4

Ka-_boom..._the situation explodes

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Chapter 4

It was the next day and even before they started looking at the two files, Sean and Michelle first had to determine if the burnt victim was that of Rick Thunder. And that meant a trip to see the coroner. They arrived there in no time. Their footsteps were the only sounds that could be heard as they walked down the passageway of the Chief Medical Examiner's office.

"I hate going to the morgue," Sean complained, "even the hallway feels cold."

"I doubt our reception with the coroner will be any warmer," Michelle countered.

They finally reached the hospital morgue. The antiseptic room was tiny, chilly and mostly built of steel. Built against the wall were several refrigerated drawers, their rectangular ends facing out.

Coroner Bill Thompson looked up from his clipboard as Sean and Michelle approached him. Determined to ignore them, he feigned reading his clipboard, even as they stood directly across from him.

"Agent Rigby warned me about you two," he stated coolly, his head still down, "he told me I don't have to talk to either one of you."

"That's true," admitted Michelle, "but if you don't, you'll leave us no choice but to use other measures in order to see the file on the burnt victim."

Thompson's head shot up, "What is _that_ suppose to mean? Are you going to resort to stealing files from a federal building?"

"No, of course not," Sean stated, as he and Michelle stepped closer to Thompson, crowding him, "Not stealing, _per se._ We _may_, however, covertly take pictures of certain files. So you can tell us now, or we may be forced to return tonight."

"And I should warn you, if we return, I can be very clumsy," Michelle claimed as Thompson looked on with a worried look, "so who knows? You may wake up tomorrow with possibly a broken window..."

"...or a broken lock, " Sean reminded her, "Remember that time you broke into the health department building?"

"...I already _told_ you...I made a mistake because I had a_ cold_ that day," Michelle pretended to defend herself, "which is rather ironic being that we were in the _health_ department building."

"Yeah," Sean stated, "but it ended up costing them thousands of dollars to clean up that mess after you knocked over all those test tube samples..."

"Okay, o-_kay_," Thompson gave in, "I _get_ it. Look, I don't want any trouble. Just..." he looked covertly left then right, "...don't let on to Rigby that you got the information from me."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Sean looked humble.

Coroner Thompson did not look happy, "The preliminary report is that the burnt victim was _not_ Rick Thunder."

Sean and Michelle exchanged knowing glances. Sean was also relieved to hear his friend did not die a horrific death.

"You can tell that just from an autopsy?" he asked.

"Well, I didn't have a choice since I couldn't directly_ ask_ the body," Thompson stated, his attempt at humor.

"Sorry, autopsy jokes go over my head," Sean said, his hand flying over his head.

"So how do you know the body wasn't Thunder's?" Michelle inquired.

Thompson sighed, "It's easier if I show you. Follow me."

He led them to one of the autopsy tables where a body was covered by a white sheet. As Sean and Michelle gathered around, Thompson pulled back the sheet to reveal the blackened corpse.

"Ugh." commented Michelle as Sean looked on with interest.

"The victim suffered multiple traumatic injuries," explained Thompson, pointing at various areas of the burnt body with his pen, "fractures, ruptured organs here, and collapsed lungs over there. In addition, he was nearly incinerated."

"So if this isn't Thunder, who is this?" Sean asked.

Thompson shook his head, "I don't have an identification for the burnt victim yet..._but_...I can tell you this. He was not only the _victim_, he was also the guy who _set fire_ _to Thunder's office_."

"What?" Michelle asked incredulously.

"How did you ever draw _that_ conclusion?" Sean asked.

The coroner referred back to the charred body, "The nature of his burns indicated he was near the source of the explosion when it occurred."

"_Explosion?_" Sean scowled, "What explosion?"

"The one that blew him out the window of Thunder's office and into the trash bin," the coroner said, "From the injuries he sustained, he would have had to fall from a high place. The injuries are concussive-force ones. Only an explosive fall would produce such extreme trauma over his entire body."

"So this body not only _isn'_t Thunder's, it's also the body of the _arsonist_?" Sean needed to organize his thoughts clearly.

"Correct," the coroner verified, "there's also another reason why this charred body couldn't be Rick Thunder. There is enough evidence that shows this victim here took a bullet in his right shoulder a few years back and Thunder never sustained a bullet injury."

"Humph," Sean said, now able to look at the body impersonally, "Yeah, Rick would have never gotten hit by a bullet from the front. He would be running away at any hint of a gun."

.

When Sean and Michelle got back to their office, Edgar was at the computer, testing out various trajectories of the victim's fall. After studying the possibilities, he was able to verify for them that everything the coroner had stated was true regarding the explosive drop of the body.

Sean and Michelle also received from the coroner, copies of some wide and close-up shots of the fire scene. They had been given the pictures if they promised they would never 'visit' the coroner's office again. Edgar studied the crime scene pictures with a deep intensity. It was as though he were trying to thoroughly memorize the pictures so that they would forever be seared in his mind.

"So...what's your opinion regarding those pictures, Edgar?" Sean inquired.

Edgar pointed to one of the pictures, "Thunder's office was origin of fire, Sean. The pattern of spalling on the walls and floors shows arsonist splashed gasoline everywhere. Arsonist was very messy."

Michelle spoke out, "I don't get it. How could there be an explosion from someone just splashing gasoline around and setting it on fire? If I'm not mistaken, gasoline doesn't explode...it just ignites into flames."

Sean looked at Michelle with admiration at her intelligence.

"Yes, Michelle," Edgar robotically answered, "but gasoline can explode if in a closed container."

"But it _wasn't_ in a closed container when it exploded," Michelle speculated, which gave Sean a brilliant theory.

"No it wasn't_._.._but._.." Sean started to look excited, "it was in an enclosed _room!_ That's it! That's why it exploded! The office acted like a closed container!"

"Yes, " Edgar nodded once, "a gallon of gasoline can equal twenty sticks of dynamite."

"So what you're saying," Michelle theorized, "is that the arsonist closed the door behind himself, started pouring gasoline around the office, struck the match in order to ignite the gasoline and then _ka-boom_?"

"It's not that easy," Sean jumped in, "What probably happened is after he lit the match, the gasoline didn't catch. Frustrated, he looks around for something to 'help the fire along.' He then probably rolls up some random papers he found like a torch, lights it, and tosses it across the room. What he doesn't realized is that gasoline fumes have been building up in the confined space."

"...Ka-BOOM!" Edgar gestured an explosion with his hands. He gave a boyish grin, seemingly having fun saying that word, "Hot damn!"

Sean and Michelle smiled at Edgar.

"Anyway, because of the arsonist's own foolishness," she concluded, " he gets blown out the window and lands all ablaze, in the trash bin in the alley below."

So there was a chance that Rick Thunder could be alive.

"Come on, Michelle," Sean said, getting up, "we need to go."

"We just got here!" Michelle felt they had been busy non-stop, with no time for her to catch her breath, "You want us to do some investigating NOW?"

A slight smile peeked out of Sean, "No."

"Then where are we going?"

"Somewhere you'd like..." he stated mysteriously, enjoying keeping her in suspense.

Michelle was baffled but intrigued, "What? Where?"

Sean could barely contain his grin, "I thought I might accompany you to the gym...after I change into my sweats, that is."

A smile burst forth from Michelle, "Give me a sec and I'll go change into my workout gear, too!"

.

They had gone to the gym excited and pumped up, but returned frazzled and tired.

At least one of them felt that way.

Sean was almost limping as he entered the office houseboat. With a big moan, he plopped down on his chair. Michelle, on the other hand looked as fresh as a daisy. They were the only two in the room, for Edgar had already left for lunch.

"Oh, come on, Sean," Michelle said as she did a few running-in-place sprints, "it wasn't _that_ bad, was it?"

"Let's just say that every human has a finite number of heartbeats," Sean noted, tenderly rubbing his legs, "and in the future, I don't intend to waste _any_ of mine running around and doing exercises."

Michelle grinned, "I suppose you would love to find an exercise bike with a nice little basket so that you can have somewhere to put your nachos."

"Is that so bad?" Sean wanted to know.

Michelle rolled her eyes, "Then answer me this, Mr. Workout Guy. If you don't go to the gym, how do you figure you'll get your exercise?"

"The usual way," Sean stated, "I'll sleepwalk. That way, I can combine exercise and rest at the same time!"

Michelle laughed.

"Well, while you contemplate the merits of sleepwalking," she decided, as she started to take off her jacket, "I think I'll go in and hit the shower."

Sean shook his head, "Uh-uh, no you don't."

She was in the middle of trying to get her arms out of the sleeve of her jacket and paused, "Why? What do you mean?" she questioned.

"This is_ my_ place, _my_ shower. Therefore, I'm going to shower _first_," he announced.

"Whatever happened to chivalry? Of letting a woman go first?" she questioned.

"You're confusing opening doors with showering again, Michelle."

Her lips thinned as she tossed her jacket on a chair, "Then what am I suppose to do while you shower?"

Sean went and held up the two folders that had been laying on his desk, "You can peruse through the two cases Thunder had been handling and tell me which one we should investigate first."

Michelle did not look happy, "Okay, but I know whatever case I pick, you're going to investigate the _other_ one," she predicted.

"So what's your point?" Sean countered as he headed for the bathroom. He then shut the door behind him. Michelle sighed as she went over to Sean's desk to look over the cases. Soon she could hear the water running from down the hallway.

Inside the shower, Sean allowed the water to run down his body, He liked the hissing sounds of rushing water while the hydrating sprays brought comfort to his sore body. He allowed the water to continually pour down the entire length of his body until it became completely wet.

Through the door, Michelle could hear the shower running. She tried to concentrate on the folder in front of her, but couldn't help imaging Sean's toned physique silhouetted against the shower door, water dripping from all the soft and hard angles of his body. Her own body heat rose at the visual picture of Sean getting soaped up and then rinsing himself off.

And she felt the flutterings down low in her body.

The water had stopped. Michelle could hear the shower curtains being drawn opened and she pictured Sean emerging from the partially wet shower, wrapped only in a towel, his wet hair gleaming in the artificial light.

The rush of her heartbeat filled her ears as she caught a single glimpse of him walking across to his bedroom, his wrapped towel slung low on his waist.

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_(A/N Thanks everyone for reading, especially those kind enough to leave a review...each one brings a smile!)_

_Please review_


	5. Chapter 5

File Case #1

Chapter 5

From her desk, Michelle craned her neck in order to see Sean exiting the bathroom to his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. She could hear drawers and a closet door opening and closing, telling her Sean was changing into some street clothes. That image alone sent her skin tingling.

From his bedroom, Sean yelled out, "Michelle! Did you finish reading the files yet?"

"Uh..." Michelle hurriedly reached for the folder, "Almost!" she yelled back.

"How far along are you?" he loudly inquired from the other room.

"The folder is almost opened!" she shouted back.

He figured she was joking, "Very funny!"

Little did he know.

He came out from the bedroom wearing black jeans with a light blue denim shirt. The shirt had been carelessly tossed on with only two of the buttons loosely fastened, the tails hanging out. It took all of Michelle's willpower to look away from the front 'v' part of his shirt which displayed quite a bit of his chest area. He was oblivious to the effect he was having on her, for he was busy rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

She tried to appear composed but her heart had begun to thump out of rhythm.

Michelle needed to stop thinking these thoughts of Sean. Besides, she was not attracted to the smug, annoying types. Well, Sean wasn't exactly _smug_; not most of the time, anyway. She tilted her head as she watched him...although he _was_ rather tall and handsome...in an annoying kind of way. No, no, she shook her head, _forget it._ She tried to wipe away all previous thoughts from her mind while distractedly her eyes continued to gaze at him.

"Well, I think of the two cases we should-" Sean was still rubbing his hair with the towel when he stopped in mid-action, aware of the strange way Michelle had been watching him.

Embarrassed at being caught staring at him, she quickly snapped out of her trance to look back down at the file.

_"hmmm..."_ Sean smiled to himself at this latest revelation. _So she felt something, too_. That was good to know. She sure has had an affect on him lately; heck, just seeing her enter a room sent his pulse racing.

Michelle took a long, bracing breath, _Must not get involved with co-worker. Especially Sean._ At last she summoned her courage and walked his way, towards the direction of the bathroom. Sean's entire body locked as he stood watching her approaching him. He had a half-smile on his lips, for there seemed to be a hunger, an intensity in her eyes.

"By the way, Sean..." she began, as the corners of her mouth lifted in a beguiling smile when she had reached him.

His breath caught slightly in his throat.

"...Yes?" he anticipated.

Her expression fell, "I hope you didn't leave the bathroom floor wet and slippery after you've showered."

And with that said, she flippantly walked past him. He turned to watch her backside as she headed straight for the bathroom and slammed the door shut, closing off whatever personal moment they had just shared.

.

Michelle finished her shower and dressed quickly before going back into the office area of the houseboat. Previously she would play little 'tease' games with Sean, like allowing him a glance at her bare leg or a glimpse of her in a towel. But after that little shower incident with Sean and how their awareness of one another had been heightened, she felt uncomfortable with the mixed signals she could be sending out to him.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Sean was now reading Thunder's two files, his shirt disappointingly buttoned up, tails tucked in. He purposely kept his head low, although his slightly trembling hand was a giveaway to knowing she was in the room. At last when he looked up, he saw Michelle had already changed back into her white shirt with her black pants. Only she could make a simple outfit look dangerously sensual.

Sean's expression was perfectly bland, though there was an odd flicker in his eyes as he watched her.

"Have a nice shower? I didn't use up all the hot water, did I?" Sean asked lightly,

"If this is your way of suggesting_ again_ that we share a shower to save water, the answer is_ no, never, nada.._." Michelle stated, knowing Sean had never been serious about that remark.

He could barely suppress a smile. Bantering with Michelle was the highlight of his day.

.

Sean was out the rest of the morning. He had gone over to talk to Rachel Smith, the lawyer of Barry Mason. She had been the one who had sent out the manila envelope to Sean. Rachel's explanation to Sean was that once a month her client, Rick Thunder, would make a call to the her at exactly the same time. If the call did not come that meant Thunder had met with some foul play and she had been instructed to mail the envelope to Sean. So that was exactly what she had done when Rick had not called.

Now back in the office late afternoon, Sean relayed that information to Michelle.

"I'm surprised PI Rick didn't retain _you_ as a lawyer instead of this Rachel Smith person," Michelle commented.

"Conflict of interest," Sean said, "he was conflicted and I had no interest."

"Yeah, okay," Michelle grinned, "So you think this attorney Rachel Smith is on the up and up? You know that when it comes to lawyers, a person has to learn how to read between the _lies."_

"Very funny," he said, though he couldn't hide the smile, "but it's only 98 percent of the lawyers that give the rest of us lawyers a bad name." when she laughed he added, "You know I'm only kidding. Lawyers get a bad rap. Most of us are very good at what we do."

"Oh really?" teased Michelle, "Because what **_I_** know about lawyers is that beneath that cold, harsh, impersonal exterior beats a cold, harsh, impersonal heart."

Sean was still smiling at Michelle when Edgar walked in.

"Morning, Edgar," stated Michelle.

"Hello."

"Hey, Edgar," greeted Sean.

"Hello."

Edgar then immediately headed over to his computer desk and sat down. He placed his hands on the home keys of the keyboard and stared straight forward.

"Ready for the first case," he announced.

"Great!" Sean nodded, "So, Edgar, could you do your little keyboard magic and bring up Rick Thunder's phone records for the past two weeks?"

Wordlessly, Edgar fingers flew across the keyboard as if he were pecking keys at random. On the screen appeared columns of words and numbers. Sean put his head closer to the screen to read the list of calls made. Nothing interesting popped up...until...

"Hmmm..." Sean stated, "Seems two weeks ago, our Rick called the Department of Corrections in DC ."

Michelle sat up, interested, "He spoke to someone in jail? Who was it?" she asked.

"Says here...a...Barry Mason," Sean stated as he indicated the file on top.

"So that will be our Case Number One," confirmed Michelle.

"I need to hear names and circumstances, not numbers," Edgar stated.

Michelle responded, "Barry Mason was the guy who was found guilty of hacking his business partner up and then dumping his body in the Potomac River."

"You mean _allegedly_ hack and _allegedly_ dump," Sean reminded her, "a body was never recovered."

"What about the guy's toe?" Michelle added, "It was found in the trunk of Mason's car."

"Messy business," Edgar opinioned.

"You're right, Edgar," Sean explained, "But Mason supposedly had a strong motive. He had been pretty angry that his partner Romeo had siphoned millions of dollars from their company business accounts for personal financial expenditures."

"Their money business was messy, too" Edgar stated.

"Right again, Edgar." Sean stated. He tilted his head as an idea formed, "Edgar, on the off-chance that what I'm thinking is right, could you break into the Department of Corrections visitors' check in log to see if Rick actually visited Barry Mason in prison?"

Edgar then began typing furiously on the computer as Michelle spoke.

"So according to the files, Barry Mason hired PI Rick to follow his partner's money trail and then report back to him. And now Mason is on death row for killing his partner."

Edgar was done typing, "BINGO...Rick Thunder had visited prisoner Barry Mason a week ago Thursday."

" Hmmm..." Michelle wondered, "But why would PI Rick need to talk to Mason in prison? Mason's partner is supposedly dead and Mason has already been convicted for that crime. What more could they possibly have to talk about?"

"We're about to find out," Sean stated as he got up and grabbed his jacket, "I think it's time we pay Barry Mason a prison visit.".

Michelle checked to make sure her gun was on her, "I'm right behind you, Sean."

.

_Case Number one file showed that Barry Mason and Romeo Reed were successful financial managers for some of the most powerful people in the world, including celebrities, politicians and CEOs. Despite their success, Bert had been suspicious of Romeo's work ethics. _

_He hired Rick Thunder, who discovered that Romeo had embezzled nearly ten million dollars of the company funds. Rick Thunder had taken picture after picture of Romeo living a lavish lifestyle fit for the celebrities they work for...there were yacht parties, numerous shopping binges, a summer home and a Ferrari. _

_At first Rick had tried to exhort money from Romeo in exchange for not showing the pictures. When Romeo didn't bite, Rick ended up showing the pictures to Barry Mason, who then flew into a violent rage. He smashed up his own house before angrily leaving._

_Later, the police responded to a call from Romeo's neighbors and when they had arrived, they discovered Romeo Reed's condo had been trashed. The blood splattered all about the place was later identified as belonging to Romeo. Yet, Romeo's body was never discovered._

_When the police finally located Barry Mason, he claimed he had been driving aimlessly around the city. Unfortunately, they found bloodstains in his vehicle. And the most damning piece of evidence was the one of Romeo's toes being found in the trunk of Mason's car._

_The jury only deliberated for a day before finding Barry Mason guilty and upon sentencing, decided that he should die for his crime._

_._

Barry Mason sat across Sean and Michelle at a table in a private, windowless visitor's room at the correction center. His arms and legs were chained, his white, wiry hair was sticking out from his head, his sunken face was sickly pale. He looked completely deflated, as if all his spirit had slowly leaked from his body.

He could barely lift his head to view the two attractive visitors, "I feel like I'm looking at an ad for a model agency." he stated when he saw Sean and Michelle.

"Not quite, Mr. Mason, but thank you," Michelle spoke out kindly, "This is Sean King and I'm Michelle Maxwell. We're private investigators."

Barry's tired expression didn't change after the introductions had been made, "Really? Private investigators? Whatever do you want with me?"

Sean spoke out, "We're here to investigate the possible death of PI Rick Thunder, a former colleague of mine."

Mason had a reaction to the name. At first his eyes became round and then they glowed with curiosity, "Rick Thunder is... _dead?_"

Michelle nodded, "I'm sorry you had to hear it this way, Mr. Mason, but it's a strong possibility that he had been murdered. At least that is what the officials believe."

"But_ you two _don't think he was killed," Mason had picked up on the subtle wording.

"It's all circumstantial conjecture at this point," Sean stated.

Barry nodded slowly as if he were taking it all in before he made a dramatic announcement.

"Listen, if Thunder had _really_ been murdered..." he leaned in closer, no longer looking lifeless, "_I know who killed him._"

Sean and Michelle looked stunned.

.

_._

_Please review_


	6. Chapter 6

Help

Chapter 6

Sean and Michelle were questioning prisoner Barry Mason in one of the interrogation rooms.

Sean leaned in closer, "So, Mr. Mason, tell us, who do think killed Rick Thunder?"

"_The same person who killed my ex-partner, Romeo Reed," _Mason dramatically announced.

That came as a surprise, being that Barry Mason himself was on death row for killing Romeo Reed.

"So you're saying YOU killed Rick?" Sean questioned.

"No, of course not!...I was wrongly convicted!" Mason's tone was insistent, " I did _not_ kill Romeo! Why do you think I had called Thunder? I wanted to hire him again to try and find the _real_ killer."

So that explained the prison visit Thunder had made.

"Was Rick Thunder able to uncover any new evidence to help overturn your conviction, Mr. Mason?" Michelle asked.

Mason sadly shook his head, "I'm still here, aren't I?" he sounded grim, "I had hired Thunder again because he previously did a good job of uncovering evidence against my partner, Romeo. So when he didn't report back to me as to who really killed Romeo, I just figured that he took my money and fled. But now you say he's dead."

"Possibly," Michelle theorized, "but curiously, his body hadn't been recovered, just like your partner, Romeo Reed."

"Hmmph!" Mason snorted, "Maybe they're alive and in cahoots together!"

"I don't think so," Sean defended Thunder, "Your ex-partner obviously had _some_ type of harm done to him, what with the loss of blood and the loss of his toe. Rick's disappearance was more circumstantial. Besides, Rick may be greedy, but he wouldn't let an innocent man go to jail just to line his pockets with a few more bucks."

"I don't know if what you say is correct," Mason declared, "all I know is that I am innocent and the killer is loose while I die in prison."

"You're a long way from dying, Mr. Mason," Sean assured him, "the death penalty appeal process moves at a glacial pace."

"You sound like a lawyer," Mason said it in an accusing voice.

"I am..._was._.." Sean corrected himself, "and so that's why I know it'll be awhile before you'll die in prison."

"That's where you're wrong," Mason had a look of defeat in his eyes, "I'm dying a little every day in here," he noted as his whole body seemed to sag again.

Michelle's eyes saddened at his words, "I'm sorry for your situation, Mr. Mason. I wish we could do more to help you."

"Oh, but you can..." Mason perked up, as he glanced at Sean and then Michelle, "Since Thunder is gone, I'd like to hire the two of you to find out who actually killed Romeo Reed."

The last thing Sean and Michelle expected was to take on another case.

"We can't right now, Mr. Mason," Sean tried to let him down easy, "We have our hands full trying to locate Rick Thunder."

Mason looked at the two of them with pleading eyes.

"Look, the only thing keeping me from smashing my skull against one of these walls is the faint hope that somebody will find whoever killed Romeo," Mason told them, "Thunder is not available to help me, so I'm begging for your help."

"Maybe, when the Thunder case closes..." Sean contemplated before Michelle interrupted him.

"_Sean.._." Michelle admonished him, "_Remember._..Edgar plus spindle equals no _money."_

"If it's money you want," interjected Mason, "I don't have much left in my account because of the embezzlement, _but_ I'll be willing to give you everything I've got because I can liquidate the rest of my assets and live off that."

"Oh we couldn't do that to you, Mr. Mason," Michelle said gently.

But Mason was insistent, "What good will any money do for me in here? Please, don't say _no_ to taking my case. I know my measly $10,000 isn't much..."

Upon hearing the amount of $10,000, Sean and Michelle sat up.

"Did you say, ten_ thousand_ dollars?" Sean asked unbelieving.

"I did," Mason acknowledge, "please don't turn it down or I'll have to look for other avenues in finding the killer..."

"Uh, let's not be too hasty now," Michelle told him, "we didn't say we _wouldn't_ help you..."

"Then...you will?" Mason had a wistful look on his face, "I can deposit the funds immediately to your account through Rachel Smith, once the real killer of Romeo is caught."

"What's another person to catch?" Michelle rushed in, "After all, our business_ is_ to catch people who don't want to be caught..."

Mason looked pleased.

"Thank you for giving me _hope,_" he looked gratefully at them, "that's something I hadn't felt in a long time."

"I'm glad," Sean gave him an assurance smile, "We'll do our best to find the man who should be sitting here instead of you, Mr. Mason."

And when Mason smiled back at them, he looked ten years younger.

.

Sean and Michelle walked in tandem out of the corrections facility. It felt good to be out in the bright sunshine again.

"You sure changed your mind about helping when $10,000 was involved," Sean noted.

Michelle suddenly stopped walking, causing Sean to halt his steps.

"Well, we can't live on principle, Sean," Michelle pointed out, "and anyway, you keep reminding me how expensive it is for Edgar's soup."

He had to grin at that.

As they stood talking, they were so close together now that Sean became mesmerized by her face. She obviously had the kind of looks that caused a man's heart to pound erratically. Especially his. Her features were a contradiction of femininity and strength, punctuated by the radiance of clear blue eyes. In addition to that, she had a way of making his heart smile, too.

And right now he was thinking that their familiarity with one another was getting dangerous.

Michelle met his gaze. Her lips parted slightly at the way his usual gentle eyes were filled with an intensity that made goose bumps rise on her arms. She had to look down in order to concentrate on her words.

"You usually take cases on principle, Sean," she stated with surety, "which is something I admire in you, but every now and then, let's take a case based on principle AND money."

At her words, he smiled, pleased with her answer. He was ready with a smart-alecky reply when something caught his eye at the top of the roof of one of the buildings.

It was the glint of something shiny.

Something shiny that should _never _be seen on top of a roof.

Terror gripped Sean; his first instinct was to protect Michelle. Her back had been facing the building. She wasn't prepared when he suddenly rushed her, shrouded his body over hers and then threw her down on the ground .

"Wha-" Michelle began.

_BANG!_

A shot rang out directly above them. At the sound, Michelle covered her head.

Their bodies were only touching together for a split second, They exchanged looks before instinctively rolling in opposite directions, Michelle went left while Sean rolled right. Another shot rang out and hit the sidewalk between them.

With their adrenaline kicking in now, both pushed off from the ground and began running for cover. Michelle ran to the closest tree while Sean found protection behind a vehicle.

It seemed like forever as they waited.

No other shots were fired. Then they heard the sound of an car engine revving and squealing away. Then nothing.

"Sean!" Michelle yelled, her gun pulled out, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!"

From behind the car, Sean took several deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose slowly, forcing it down low, letting only his stomach, not his chest expand. He then released the breath through his mouth slowly draining his lungs fully. He'd like to think his visceral reaction was due to almost being shot in broad daylight. But down deep he knew it was due to the fact that Michelle had been in danger.

.

.

They were now driving back to the office. Sean was the driver while Michelle sat on the passenger side.

"You sure you're okay, Michelle?" Sean took a quick glance her way. He was tempted to give her some reassurance by holding her hand, but that was not what their relationship was about.

"I'm about as good as anyone who had been shot at," she stated, nonchalantly, staring straight ahead.

She was not going to let him see how scared she had been. Especially when Sean rolled away from her. She realized he had no gun on him and therefore had no way to defend himself. He was right after all; she hated when she didn't have control with a situation.

Meanwhile Sean was thanking his lucky stars both of them were safe. He really enjoyed their partnership; he loved his job. But sometimes he forgot how life-threatening his profession could be. That wasn't a fake person shooting fake bullets. He took a quick glance over at Michelle. He would never take her for granted.

He cleared his throat.

"Have you had anything to eat yet?" Sean asked, "I know of an upscale restaurant we can go to for lunch. My treat."

Michelle turned his way, "Are you actually asking me out to lunch to a place other than Lucy's Cafe?"

Sean glanced in his rearview mirror and then shrugged, "It's not like I'm asking you to dine at the Taj Mahal. I just thought we could, you know, go somewhere a little fancier than a cafe. A place where the menu's aren't coated with plastic so that the stains could be easily wiped away. Who knows? We may even get a peek at a real tablecloth! It's been awhile since I've dined at a upscale place with someone."

"Oh, so poor lonely you has decided you don't want to be alone after being shot at?" she teased as he made a right turn.

He completed the turn, "So...did it work?"

"I'm not sure," Michelle replied, stalling, not knowing if she would accept, "so tell me, when's the last time you ate a formal lunch with someone? What was her name?"

"To begin with, it wasn't a _her_," Sean corrected, "I last shared a sumptuous meal with an international chess champion, if you must know. And believe it or not, it took my chess player friend 15 minutes just to pass the salt shaker!"

Michelle laughed, "You're making that up!"

He gave a quick grin her way, "Pretty clever, eh?"

Michelle looked down at her suit. It was smeared with dirt from their nearly-shot-at experience. Not the most presentable appearance for fine dining.

"As much as I'd love to," Michelle said, trying to calm her pounding heart, "I better get this suit off to the cleaners. And my shoes look ruined, too. I'll just grab a quick lunch at home. Maybe some other time?"

Sean's face gave away nothing, but disappointment wracked inside of him, "Oh, sure, next time."

He stopped at a light as Michelle stared forward again. She hated to turn down the tempting lunch with him, but she needed to feel detached from Sean. He had already become her best friend. And, unfortunately, he was a best friend that made her knees weak. And if she didn't watch herself, her self-control could crumble. They already worked together; it was best that they didn't socialize with each other, too.

At least not _too_ much. But maybe..maybe they could share a drink. What would be the harm in that?

"I have a little time after dinner," Michelle couldn't believe the words she was blurting out, "will you be free...later... for drinks, perhaps?"

Now why did she invite him out? Didn't she just decide _not_ get involved with a co-worker? Maybe it was sharing a near death experience that made her say it.

"Did sharing a near-death experience make you say that, Michelle?" Sean asked, surprisingly voicing her thoughts.

As he made another turn, she tried to keep her voice steady.

"Just for drinks, Sean" she casually shrugged, "No biggie if you can't make it. It's fine if you can't, ...in fact, _more_ than fine."

Could that have sounded more awkward? Michelle wished she could just disappear by opening the car door and flinging herself onto oncoming traffic. Yet she remained seated, filled with wistful anticipation as she waited for his answer.

Sean didn't say anything as he continued driving the vehicle down the street. They had almost arrived at the office.

He wanted to shout out _Hell yes_!, but then the practical side of him took over. The problem was, Michelle had become a risk to his organized life. He liked predictability which was everything she was not. It was best they not crossed that line.

"Where do you want to meet up?" Sean found himself saying, which was the complete opposite of what he had decided.

He had to check to make sure his foot was on the accelerator and not in his mouth.

"How about the Beacon Bar and Grill?" Michelle suggested quickly before he changed his mind. And then to appease that tiny voice in the back of her mind, she added, "they serve good drinks, which, of course, is the only reason why I suggested that place."

Sean knew he should make up a good excuse now; it still wasn't too late.

"Seven o'clock sound good to you, Michelle?"

Michelle's tiny voice in her head suddenly became a screaming one in her head, but she chose to ignore it.

"Sounds perfect," she agreed.

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_(I try and thank everyone individually for reading/reviewing. But I wanted to personally thank all anonymous guests who have taken time to review,too. I am grateful for each and every one)_

_Please review_


	7. Chapter 7

A Moment Like This

Chapter 7

After such a close call with the fired shots, Sean and Michelle both felt they needed something to calm themselves down and sharing a few drinks seemed to fit that bill. The Beacon Bar and Grill on Rhode Island Avenue is one of DC's most popular roof-top sky bar. It features spectacular views of the Dupont Circle neighborhood, Embassy Row and the city's skyline. Live piano music played softly in the background.

They sat together at the bar. From out the large glass window, the city spread out before them while they sipped on a martini and Cosmopolitan, respectively.

Sean could not believe how beautiful Michelle looked tonight. Her hair had that 'just got out of bed' tousled look and she was wearing a pure white cocktail dress a la Marilyn Monroe. The halter-like bodice had a plunging neckline which fitted closely to her waist before flaring out into a full skirt. He felt he was with the most beautiful woman in the room.

"So what was your impression of Barry Mason?" Michelle broke into his thoughts as she took a sip of her drink, "He certainly looked harmless enough, although that type is sometimes the most guilty. Even though he's in prison, he could have put a hit out on Thunder. Any chance he could be our killer?"

"Cynical much, Michelle?" Sean teasingly questioned, "I think I'm going to hope for the best and say Mason isn't involved in whatever happened to Rick. I don't think he killed his partner, Romeo, either. Mason has maintained his innocence throughout despite mounting evidence against him and will probably continue to do so until his last breath. Real killers rarely do that; they want people to admire their handiwork."

"What about nailing him as the person who gave orders to shoot at us?" Michelle asked.

"At this point he has no reason to shoot at us," Sean reasoned, as he tasted his drink, "he wanted us to take the case, so in order to do that, we'd have to be _alive._"

"Any theories, then, as to who took a shot at us?"

There was a pause as Sean considered. In that lull of conversation, they could hear the pianist continually tinkling on the piano keys. The instrumental song was soothing for the soul.

Even with the topic on business, Michelle felt she was having a grand time. She couldn't keep her eyes off Sean. He really did clean up good. Tonight he wore a simple dark dress shirt, the sleeves folded up to the elbow. For some reason, the showing of his arms caused her heart to pound riotously. The shirt was tucked into gray dress slacks which were slightly dressier -and tighter- than his usual wear. He finished it off with the perfect black leather belt. James Bond had it; Cary Grant had it, and tonight Sean King had the perfect mix of style and charm.

"So far the first case hasn't revealed too many suspects as to who could have harmed Rick or who could have shot at us," Sean was saying, "there's the missing embezzling partner, Romeo Reed, and the lawyer Rachel Smith. And if we really were to stretch the boundaries, Barry Mason could have hired someone."

"I don't think any of those people was the one who took a shot at us," she announced.

Sean looked over at her, surprised, "Oh yeah? You know something I don't, Michelle? What makes you say that?"

"If I'm not mistaken," Michelle explained, "The gun targeting us was a police- issued Glock firearm."

Sean didn't know whether to look stunned or impressed, "and how in the world would you know that?"

"I've had a father and four brothers in law enforcement, remember?" she reminded him, "so I am quite familiar with the weapons. And the bullets that were fired at us came from a Glock. It makes a very distinct sound when fired."

"Are you saying," Sean proposed, "that you can identify weapons according to the whooshing sounds of bullets fired from its chambers?"

"Not all fired weapons," she stated modestly.

"So if I'm reading you correctly," Sean said, "you believe that a _police officer_ from Mason's case could be the one who shot at us?"

"No, not at all," Michelle said, "If I remembered correctly from the files I skimmed through, our case number two file had to do with corrupt law officials. I'm thinking _that's_ where we will find our shooter."

Sean hadn't even given the second case a thought. He was pleased Michelle thought of it. She was brains and beauty...and even brawn...all wrapped up in one lovely package.

"That's definitely a possibility," Sean gave Michelle a look of admiration, "you are truly amazing!" he declared.

She grinned. "Thank you, Sean. I've been trying to tell you that for the longest time!"

Sean lifted his glass in a 'toast' gesture, "Let's toast...to one amazing woman."

"I'll toast to that," Michelle concurred as she clinked her glass with his.

As they peered at one another from above the top of their glasses, Sean suddenly couldn't look away and neither could Michelle stop staring back. They silently sip their individual drinks as they continued gazing.

Their attraction for each other was as tangible as the air surrounding them.

Placing his drink down now, Sean's face formed into a slow smile, which made his face so mischievously attractive that Michelle almost choked on her drink. Her slight movement caused a tendril of her blonde hair to fall forward. As she placed her drink down, Sean seemed fascinated by that fallen lock of hair. He summoned the courage to reached out and lightly graze the hair that had landed over her cheek. The tip of his thumb then lightly brushed her check. Michelle sat there, mesmerized by his touch, unable to breathe.

He dropped his hand, but his gaze stayed riveted on her. He took note of the small, inviting smile that curved on her lips, her eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the bar's candle lights. She captivated Sean completely. He realized that he worked with this woman every day, but there was still so much he wanted to know about her. Like for instance; did she like mild or spicy salsa, or did she ever climb trees as a girl, and even, what was her favorite color?

In the background, the last song had just ended, but a new one would begin soon. A young woman in a sparkling cobalt blue gown approached the piano and picked up the microphone. This song would have a vocalist. Sean turned his head slightly towards the piano when the opening bars began playing and then he took a big swallow as he watched Michelle.

He finally worked up his courage.

"Michelle...let's dance."

Her eyes became round, "D-Dance?"

"Yes, that's the art of moving your body -and I don't mean moving your body because you need to dodge bullets," he added sarcastically, "This is the art of moving your body in rhythm to music."

"I know what dancing _is_," Michelle stated, "but you want us to dance...together?"

"We could do it separately," Sean stated, "but then that would either be called tap dancing or break-dancing."

His head then gestured towards the floored balcony outside, where a few couples were headed outside to dance among the stars. Offering his hand, he silently willed her to take it.

Michelle's breath quickened as she looked at Sean's outstretched hand. Her expression was contemplative, the edges of her teeth catching at the plush curve of her lower lip. And just when he thought she would refuse him, she wordlessly reached out, her warm fingers catching his. Relief hummed through his veins. He held her hand reverently as they walked in tandem to the outside patio, every now and then sneaking a look her way.

The opening instrumental was now filled with the vocalist singing in a clear voice the song "A Moment Like This":

_What if I told you_  
_It was all meant to be_  
_Would you believe me,_  
_Would you agree_

They faced each other at a safe distance, unsure how to proceed. Not trusting himself to speak, Sean cautiously stepped slightly closer. She stiffened slightly, not knowing what to expect.

"I feel nervous," Michelle admitted in a soft whisper.

"Do you have that queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach?" Sean inquired.

"Yes."

"Ignore it. That's just common sense leaving your body," he stated.

She smiled, slightly more relaxed.

_It's almost that feelin'__  
__That we've met before_

Sean cleared his throat and then placed his right hand flat against her lower back and his left hand was out at a 45 degree angle. Her hand gingerly slipped into his opened palm, as she nervously smiled at him. They could feel one another's body trembling.

_So tell me that you don't think I'm crazy__  
__When I tell you love has come and now..._

_A moment like this_  
_Some people wait a lifetime,_

As they drew closer, Sean's nearness was sending Michelle's heart crashing against the wall of her chest. Meanwhile Sean felt mesmerized by the vivid blueness of her eyes and his heart raced wildly as he lightly but possessively held her. Both felt they needed to take a step or they wouldn't be able to breathe.

And magically, they began to dance to the music, their bodies in sync to the beat of the music.

_For a moment like this_  
_Some people search forever,_  
_For that one special kiss_

Michelle loved the feel of being in Sean's arms. She hadn't known how wonderful and protected she would feel in them. She could hardly draw a breath around the billowing excitement and confusion she felt as they continued to dance.

_Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me_  
_Some people wait a lifetime,_  
_For a moment like this._

Sean knew he had always harbored feelings for Michelle deep inside, but lately, it seemed more difficult for them not to come bubbling up to the surface. She was one of the few people he completely trusted, but he knew he felt more than trust for her. As Michelle watched him, she, too, was struggling to contain a swell of emotion that was almost more than she could bear. Despite her private protestations, she felt herself getting more personally involved with...her mind suddenly shut down. She didn't want to think about anything that would stop her from dancing with Sean. Let sensibility come tomorrow. Tonight she would float in her dance partner's arms.

_Everything changes__  
__But beauty remains__  
__Something so tender__  
__I can't explain_

To Sean, Michelle's body was slim and strong, her waist sweetly curved beneath his fingers-tips as they continued to move in rhythm to the music. A peculiar tightness in Sean's chest made his heartbeat pound wildly. The scent and feel of her was so familiar yet it was intimately different.

_Well I may be dreamin'__  
__But 'till I awake__  
__Can we make this dream last forever__  
__And I'll cherish all the love we share_

At one point in the dance she pulled away from so they could talk.

"I have a confession to make, Sean, " she said, her voice soft and urgent, as he continued holding her, wishing he'd never have to let her go.

Sean's heart sank slightly. He hoped she was going to say anything discouraging regarding what was happening between them. He just wanted to enjoy the moment.

"Go on," he stated, although he sounded hesitant.

"I really can't differentiate a weapon by the sound of its fired bullets," she confessed, "what had actually happened was that I had found on the ground, one of the bullets that had been fired and recognized it as ammunition from a police issued handgun."

She dropped her eyes, expecting some kind of ribbing or talking down to, but instead Sean laughed, which was not what Michelle had been expecting.

"_What?_" she asked, looking back at him as they continued swaying to the song, "What's so funny?"

"We're slow dancing against the romantic backdrop of heavenly stars, Michelle," he stated, "and our topic of conversation is bullets and guns!"

She smiled at the irony of it as they continued to glide across the floor.

_A moment like this_  
_Some people wait a lifetime,_  
_For a moment like this_

Intuitively they felt their bodies closing the distance between them and suddenly they were dancing cheek to cheek. Michelle let out a contented sigh as she momentarily shut her eyes. The feel of being in his arms made her quiver with happiness.

_Some people search forever,_  
_For that one special kiss_

_Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me_

_Some people wait a lifetime,_  
_For a moment like this_

_Oh, like this oh, I can't believe it's happening to me._

_Some people wait a lifetime,_  
_For a moment like this._

_Oh, like this..._

The song had ended, but they continued dancing a full twenty seconds longer. A heat of passion rose in their eyes as they gazed at each other. Their evening at the bar had started out talking about the case, about getting shot at, and about guns, but it ended with one magical, memorable moment.

_._

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_(Okay, getting the romance out of my system! Let me know what you think!_)

_Please review_


	8. Chapter 8

File Case #2

Chapter 8

One of the favorite part of Michelle's morning was using getting to work. No, she didn't come into the office by car. Michelle enjoyed rowing her scull through the fast breaking waters in order to reach the houseboat.

She truly loved the unity and rhythmic beauty of rowing, her arms pushing towards and then away, up the slide and then the pushing back and then forward once more. It truly was poetry in motion as she felt the oars cutting through the waters and the crisp breeze blowing on her face and through her hair.

The predictable, repetitive motion of the rowing also allowed her to be alone with her thoughts.

She thought about last night -how Sean had drawn her into his arms as they seemed to drift throughout the dance floor. Her heart melted at the way he smiled at her, his deep brown eyes gleaming as they reflected the gathering moonlight.

_Oh god, why am I sounding like a romantic sonnet?_ she wondered. She just hoped it wouldn't be awkward in the office.

.

Sean sat at his desk in the office, twirling the pen he held in his hand. He was lost in memory. Musings of Michelle and how she looked last night took his breath away. When she was in his arms as they danced, he felt a wild, dizzying sensation and it took all his willpower not to want to...

Sean turned towards the entrance doorway. Although Michelle made no sound, Sean intuitively felt her presence. His eyes followed her as she attempted to give him the usual casual greeting, but if he didn't know any better, it seemed as if her movements seemed stilted.

"Morning," she said to both Edgar and Sean, trying hard not to make her voice quiver.

"Hel-lo, Michelle" Edgar stated as he started the day by lining up his pencils.

"Hi," Sean was thinking his voice sounding unusually thick.

She tried to walk nonchalantly past him to the kitchen to get her usual cup of morning coffee, but her legs felt like rubber. _Oh, this wasn't going to be awkward at all._

Back at his desk, Sean was also struggling for normalcy_. Get a hold of yourself, King_. Sean took a deep breath in. He had been thinking about her all morning and when she had appeared at the doorway, his pulse felt like it was drumming in his ears. He had to remind himself that they worked well as a team and now was not the time to rock the boat. Or in Michelle's case, to rock the scull, Sean thought, giving himself a secretive smile.

Michelle had walked back into the room, but it was so silent now that they could hear the clock ticking on the wall.

"Soooo," Michelle tried to fill the hush of the room, "perhaps we need to get going on file case number two."

"Sure," Sean reached for the second file, "might as well since that's why we're here...to _work,_ right?"

"True," she said with a forced professionalism, "I am here to work, and you are here to work, which is something that you are very good at."

"You are the one that is good at doing work, Michelle."

"No, it really is you, Sean."

"I think it's you, Michelle."

Edgar watched Michelle, then Sean, then Michelle and then back to Sean.

"_You've Got Mail,_ 1998," Edgar named a movie title in his usual flat tone.

Sean and Michelle both looked at him questionably, "What?" they both asked in unison.

Edgar's voice went an octave higher as he gave a direct quote from the movie, "_'I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly._'"

Their conversation _had_ sounded rather silly, making Michelle blush as Sean cleared his throat. It was time to get serious and back to work. Sean opened the next folder and summarized the second case Thunder had worked on.

_The second case involved a chain of one high end department stores that had hired Thunder to find tens of thousands of dollars in stolen jewelry, statues, expensive clothes and electronics. In the opinion of the CEO and the board of directors, the police had not been very thorough in their investigation._

"Rick Thunder may have some questionable qualities," Sean commented as he looked over Rick's reports, "but he was also a good PI. From his notes, he really did a thorough investigation."

"Oh? What did PI Rick find out?" Michelle asked.

"Evidently Rick had checked some auction sites where he found several of the less known items listed under different accounts," Sean explained, "He then bought some of the items and managed to trace the items back to a warehouse in Silver Springs."

"And who owns the warehouse?" Michelle inquired.

Sean looked at her evenly, "You won't believe this. but according to Thunder's records, the warehouse belonged to Randall Hurley."

Michelle wrinkled her brow, "Randall Hurley? Why does that name sound familiar?"

"He's the detective in charge of Washington DC's Major Case Unit. "

"You're kidding!" Michelle put her mug down, looking stunned, "That certainly explained why the police were not actively pursuing the case."

"Well, there's more to the story," Sean said, "You see, Thunder had been keeping track of people coming and going from that warehouse. The list he included in this file contained Hurley's entire squadron, bringing the total to half a dirty dozen."

"That's a shame," Michelle stated, "because from what I can recall, that special unit had received all kinds of commendations and awards. Hurley and his squad were admired by everyone."

"Yeah," snorted Sean, "Hurley and his _goon_ squad."

"Say, I just thought of something else," Michelle added, "...most warehouses have cameras located on the outside to guard the perimeter, right?"

"Sure," Sean agreed.

"Well, since Hurley had so many valuable items, wouldn't it stand to reason that he would have also installed surveillance cameras on the _inside_ as well?"

"That's not bad, Michelle," Sean's eyes showed excitement as he looked at Edgar, "Edgar, could you see if you can tap into the warehouse's internal cameras? Sean handed the address of the warehouse to Edgar.

Instantly Edgar's fingers passed swiftly across the keys and soon an image of a storage room appeared on his screen. Sean and Michelle once again looked over Edgar's shoulders as they viewed a warehouse stocked wall to wall with allegedly stolen goods, seemingly hundreds of thousands of dollars of expensive store merchandise.

"Wow," Michelle said, taking in all the loot shown, "That's a lot of stolen merchandise. If Rick had the evidence, why didn't he turn this over to the CEO of the company, or better yet, the FBI?"

"Because...remember, this is Rick," Sean stated, "And Rick is all about himself."

"You think PI Rick was blackmailing Hurley?"

"Not just Hurley," Sean corrected, "Earlier I had Edgar check up on Thunder's bank account and from what we could see, he seemed to be making many deposits at different times. Rick was blackmailing everyone involved in those robberies."

"...and his last payment may have cost him his life," Michelle interjected bleakly.

.

It was late in the evening now. Edgar and Michelle had long left the houseboat office. Sean enjoyed the quietude of the evenings. He went outside and leaned against one of his houseboat railings, watching the waters foam go back and forth. The sun had already set, but it left behind ribbons of orange and yellow across the sky. It set his mind drifting.

Now that he was alone, his mind could daydream, free of reality's restraints. So his thoughts drifted.

_In his imaginary musings there was a castle of some sort, with a secret garden on the back side. Embedded in the middle of it was a splashing fountain, its crystal water flowing freely. Music floated from an open window of a ballroom nearby. As Sean walked past the bushes, he immediately spotted Michelle in the clearing. Wearing an exquisite lavender silk draped ball gown she was humming to herself as she swirled back and forth in an approximation of a waltz._

_Sean's heart was pounding in uneven, heavy beats as he approached her. Lost in her own world, she did not even notice Sean until he was directly next to her. At last, in the midst of a slow twirl, Michelle saw him and froze._

___He greeted her an elegant bow._

_"Sean?"_

_His heart thumped in his chest,_ _"All you are missing is a partner, Michelle."_

_Recovering quickly, her eyes sparkled with the soft glow of starlight. She then trustingly placed her hand in his outstretched hand. Deftly he pulled her in his arms, his eyes intent on hers. And as the music floated in the air, he eased Michelle into a slow waltz, gliding her expertly across the terrace grounds..._

.

Sean came out of his revelry at the sound of unfamiliar, heavy footsteps. Two burly men stood in front of him, both of their arms folded. Something told him some bad stuff was going down' and he wasn't going to like it. Separating himself from the railings, Sean faced them.

"What can I do for you two gentlemen?" Sean asked, knowing this would not be a friendly call.

The first one, who was slightly shorter, spoke while the other one cracked his neck.

"You Sean King?"

"Yes, I'm Sean King. What of it?"

"This is your second warning," stated the other one, "stay out of Randall Hurley's business."

_Second warning, _Sean thought to himself. So the shots fired at him and Michelle HAD been Hurley's men.

He bravely spoke out, "And what if I don't?"

"...Won't be good for you," was the first one's cold response.

Sean snorted, "You know what? This is precisely what is wrong with this country today."

The two thugs traded looks.

"What you mean?" the second one wanted to know.

"The use of the English language," Sean responded, "No one wants to speak in complete sentences anymore."

Then before the two thugs could respond, Sean reacted. He quickly made a wide sweep with his leg, which sent one of the thugs hitting the ground. Then Sean coiled right and without hesitating, he threw a punch when the second one began to advance on him. Sean's knuckles landed flush below the guy's eye and the second one went down. Sean thought he just about had the situation under control.

Until he felt something that made his heart stop. Literally.

There was a zapping sound as the first guy shoved something hard and metallic against the side of his body.

_Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!_

At the same time that Sean realized it was a stun gun, electricity coursed through his body. His heart exploded, or at least that's what it felt like.

Suddenly his legs turned to water and his arms felt as though they had dropped away from his body. His entire body was shaking uncomfortably as he hit the ground with a thud.

The second guy knelt in front of a pained Sean, a malicious grin on the guy's face.

"Like I said, drop the Hurley case, King," he warned, "just like we dropped you here."

Then he reached over with the stun gun and viciously delivered another one million volts to a helpless Sean.

Sean's already tortured body erupted with vicious jolts. He looked like a fish flopping around without water. As his body continued thrashing, The volts just kept coming. Off in the distance, Sean vaguely heard one of the thugs yelling it was enough already, but the other one ignored the order and continued to keep tasering Sean until his insides began to turn to liquid.

After awhile Sean's body began to separate from his inner core and he felt himself falling into a dark abyss until he was surrounded by blackness.

.

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_If you're still reading this, thanks! _

_Please review_


	9. Chapter 9

Working it

_(A/N: For that guest reviewer who asked that I update in less than a week...Ta dah! Here it is! Six days!*winks* And also the guest who enjoyed the romance? Don't worry, there's more to come later!)_

_._

_._

Chapter 9

Sean was gaining consciousness. He felt a brightness on his closed eyelids. There was a dark shadow hovering and he heard a voice nearby that sounded familiar yet so faraway.

"Sean."

He recognized Michelle's voice somewhere in the distance but his eyelids were too heavy to open. He was still floating in darkness, feeling lost. His body felt heavy and exhausted. She was calling him again, her voice sounding like an angel.

"Sean."

He could feel himself regaining consciousness. Then his body recalled the volts of electricity that had coursed through him when he had been tasered and his entire body began thrashing about viciously again. In the midst of this chaotic flailing, he felt someone's arms holding him back.

It was Michelle, gently talking to him, with words he couldn't make out. Nevertheless the tone sounded soothing to him and he wasn't struggling as much. Then he felt a soft, feminine hand, gently stroking through his hair.

"Sean..." her voice gently called out, "it's over...the bad stuff is over..."

Her touch relaxed him and his flopping around subsided.

"That's right, Sean, you can relax now..take a deep breath in..."

He listened to the voice; he trusted the voice. He forced himself to take a breath; his lungs needed new air. Deep breath in, deep breath out. His mind fought through the haze, searching for a clearing.

"Breathe, Sean, slow down. Deep breaths."

His body was at peace.

Sean's eyes opened slowly. His vision started out blurry, and he blinked fast to help get everything into focus. He could see her now. Michelle was hovering over him, watching him, her eyes concerned. Her face looked so pale as her gaze clung to his.

"Hey," she was saying gently, a smile on her lips, "how are you feeling?"

Sean turned his head left, then right. He was in his own bedroom, tucked in his own bed. When he tried to lift his head, his head throbbed and he felt dizzy, causing him to lay back down on the pillow again.

"Ooohhh," he groaned, holding his head, "What time is it, Michelle?"

"It's eight in the morning," Michelle said, "Edgar called me when he came in and we both helped you to the bed.,There were burn marks on the side of your body from the taser. Seemed they got you really good there."

Sean winced as he touched the burned side of his body.

"So you saw the taser marks?" he asked and then needing to know, "_underneath my clothing_?"

Her expression didn't give any indication of what she could be thinking internally, "Someone had to check you for injuries."

"And it was _you_?" Sean blushed.

Again she was vague, "Maybe."

At least she wasn't repelled by what she saw, Sean thought. Or worse, she didn't laugh.

One side of his mouth formed a smirk, "And did you _like _what you saw when you examined me?" he half-teased.

She shrugged, "Hmmm...some places _less_ than others."

Sean was too tired to continue the bantering, however fun it might be. He licked his dried lips. It didn't escape her notice as she reached over for the glass of water that was on the nightstand.

"You must be thirsty. Here, drink this."

She helped him lift his head and tilted the glass to his lips. He drank thirstily, the liquid flowing down his throat with ease. Water never tasted so good. Laying back down again, he was thinking he liked this caring side of Michelle.

"Thanks, " he stated.

"It's the least I could do," she stated.

They talked for awhile and with every minute, he was feeling better and better. At one point, his eyes followed Michelle's hand as she placed it on his forehead to check his temperature, a worried expression on her face.

He was beginning to enjoy all this attention Michelle was giving him.

"You seem better, Sean," Michelle determined, "so I think I'll go work on the case a little while you rest some more."

She started to get up. Sean definitely didn't want to be left alone, especially when Nurse Michelle was comforting him. He grabbed her arm before she had a chance to leave.

"Wait, Michelle," his voice was purposely weak as he played up his injuries, "I...I still feel so weak...the pain was _-is-_ excruciating. My body feels_._.._tortured..._"

"You still feel bad, huh?" Michelle sat back down.

He gave his most defeated, exhausted look, "It feels like a war zone in my body."

"You've gone through so much," she empathized. Then leaning in, she whispered in his ear, "_Tell me what I can do to make you feel better."_

_Now she's talking._ Sean smiled at the implication. He was going to play the sympathy card to the hilt.

"A head massage would be nice... " he suggested, his voice purposely weak.

"Oh? Do you have a headache, too?"

"All I feel...is pain...all over, including my head..." he told her, picturing himself winning an Oscar for his exceptional acting skills.

She nodded understandably, "Don't worry; I'll be gentle, Sean."

His excitement was building as images of her exquisite hands massaging him filled his mind.

"Thank you, Michelle."

"Just a little more water, first; it'll help to revive you..." Michelle lightly insisted as she held out the glass of water. Then before he could protest, she directed the glass over his head and tilted it, dumping the water smack-dab on his face.

_Shzzzzzzz!_

He felt himself drowning from the water as it splashed everywhere on his eyes, nose and mouth. "Hey!" he yelled, hastily sitting up, "What the hell, Michelle?"

She stood up, indignant, hands on hips, "You little piece of fakeness!"

Then she headed towards the bathroom. Returning with a towel, Michelle offhandedly tossed it in his direction, making him wipe up the dripping water by himself.

"And just so you know, Michelle I AM in pain!"

"Don't be a big baby, Sean," she berated him, "It's not as if you were bitten by ten poisonous rattlesnakes...it was only a stun gun, after all!"

"Oh yeah? "he protested, vigorously wiping the wetness from his head with the towel, "Well, right now, ten poisonous rattlesnakes sound pretty darn good to me!"

"Believe me, that can be arranged!" Michelle warned him before she then headed out the door.

.

An hour later, Sean appeared in the office area of the houseboat. Edgar was at his computer desk while Michelle was behind him. They seemed to have just shared a private joke, for Michelle was laughing.

"So what's going on out here?" Sean asked, curious for an update.

Michelle straightened up and gave him a look, head to toe.

"I see you've made a fast recovery," she commented with a smirk.

"Well, with your excellent bedside manners, how could I not?" Sean rhetorically mocked.

"Hey, you've recovered in less than an hour," Michelle stated cheekily,"so I guess my water method worked."

"You mean water_boarding_ methods," Sean reminded her.

"I do not understand any of this," Edgar said, still looking at his computer screen, "and I don't care to, either."

Sean and Michelle smiled.

"So did you two get any work done?" Sean asked, changing the subject.

"Contrary to the popular beliefs _in your head _that only_ you_ know what to do_,_ we know what to do, too, "Michelle remarked, "and in fact, Edgar and I found out quite a bit while _you_ had been relaxing."

"Relaxing? If I wanted to relax, I'd go on a golf course," Sean stated, glad to be bantering again, "What I just did was recover from being attacked by a weapon of mass destruction."

Michelle rolled her eyes, "A little electricity never hurt anyone, Sean."

Even though she was being very flippant about what had happened to him, Michelle knew that Sean had taken a heavy dose of voltage from the stun gun. A three-second hit would be considered effective, and judging from his burn marks, his body had been attacked by the stun gun for a good three _minutes._ She was grateful that no permanent damage had been done to him. Besides the tired look around his eyes, but he seemed his old self.

"Rocky Gap," Edgar announced suddenly, out of the blue, as he stared at his computer screen.

"Call me crazy," Sean scowled, "But that is the last two-word combination I'd expected to hear. What?"

"That's the name of the famous gambling casino in Maryland," Michelle explained,"And it's related to what we discovered. Edgar had checked out the bank account activities for both of our cases. With the Barry Mason case, there was no activity since he's been jailed, so we decided to also check out his lowlife missing partner, Romeo Reed."

"That's a good idea," Sean face now looked excited, "but I don't get what all of this has to do with the Rocky Gap Casino."

Turns out before Romeo disappeared, " Michelle explained, "he had made numerous withdrawals from an ATM at the Rocky Gap Casino. If he is still around, I'm willing to bet he'd be there. It's about two hours from here."

"Oh? Numerous withdrawals were made?" Sean went over and looked on with interest, " So Romeo's a gambler?"

"According to his withdrawals he was," Michelle confirmed.

"Makes sense..." Sean reasoned as he, too, looked at the screen, "...and the withdrawals stopped after he disappeared because once he embezzled those millions, he wouldn't need his piddly little bank account." Sean looked proudly at Michelle and Edgar, "Well, good work you two."

"Oh, I haven't even told you the best part," Michelle declared.

"Oh?" Sean was intrigued, "More info on Romeo Reed?"

"Not quite," she said, "it concerns the bank account activity of our _second_ case, Major Crime Unit head detective, Randall Hurley and his merry men of robbers. Seems Hurley had kept a secret offshore account in Monaco."

"Monaco?" Sean repeated, "why there?"

"Monaco is listed as uncooperative tax haven, Sean," Edgar stated in his no nonsense way, "there is a level of bank secrecy there."

"But please tell me you could do your little magic trick and break into their system, Edgar."

Edgar stared directly at him, "Silly Rabbit, Trix are for kids," he said to Sean, imitating the Trix cereal commercial as Sean grinned.

Then Edgar's voice turned robotic again, "Of course, I can, Sean. Banks really need better security measures if they want a level of secrecy," he nonchalantly reported, "Major Crime Unit boss Randall Hurley has been depositing around twenty thousand dollars a month in that account."

Sean let out a low whistle, "His paper spike must be filled to the top, eh, Edgar?"

"Only if his spike is located in Monaco, Sean."

Michelle grinned.

"But wait! There's more!" she teased, imitating those announcers from informercial ads on TV, "but only if you act now!"

Sean gave a satisfied smile, "I can't _wait_ to hear!"

"I had Edgar check the traffic cameras within a 20 mile radius of the houseboat yesterday evening," Michelle explained, "and the cameras were able to capture one vehicle whose license plate belonged to one of the detectives of the Major Crime Unit."

Sean nodded, "The two goons who attacked me last night were there to warn me off the Hurley case. I kind of figured they were two of the detectives from the Major Case Unit. After all, it was quite a coincidence."

"Hurley _has_ to be behind the robberies and the threats," Michelle decided, "There is no such thing as coincidences."

"There _are_ such things as coincidences, Michelle," Edgar corrected her, "or the word wouldn't exist."

Michelle was going to say something about that, but thought better of it and kept her mouth shut.

"He's got you there, Michelle," Sean pointedly said.

"I think so, too," agreed Michelle, good naturedly before she turned back to Sean, "so, what do you say we do next?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sean asked, "I think it's time we give Rigby a call. We need to bust up Hurley and his nefarious stolen merchandise ring."

"Already done," Michelle gave a satisfied smile, "Rigby has been informed, so you and I, Sean, are invited to an FBI raid tomorrow!"

Sean looked proudly at Michelle. She was one remarkable woman. He could not be more proud of her.

"... FBI raid, _here we come!_" he enthused.

.

.

.

_(And since I'm thanking the guests for reviewing, thank you other guests I cannot personally thank, such as Veronica, Barbara Lambert, msj12991 and any other anonymous guests as well as all the signed reviewers. Each review is read and cherished!)_

_Please review_


	10. Chapter 10

Another Mystery Solved

Chapter 10

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The FBI, under the auspices of Agent Frank Rigby, served search warrants at several Major Crime Unit's individual residences as well as the Silver Springs warehouse. They went searching their homes, offices and private vehicles for evidence related to the fencing of stolen goods. The Task Force agents also eventually arrested the wife of Randall Hurley and several of the warehouse security guards.

But arresting the ringleader, Randall Hurley, at his place of work was something Agent Rigby really looked forward to.

And because of Sean and Michelle's contribution in bringing to light this illegal operation, Agent Rigby had informed them to meet him and his agents at the police squad room to arrest Hurley and six other members of his unit.

"Hey, thanks Rigby for the heads up," Michelle said as they walked down the hallway leading to the squad room, "You're not as uptight as everyone said you were."

"Who said that I'm uptight?" Rigby inquired, seemingly taken aback by that comment.

"Like Michelle said, Everyone," Sean opinioned.

Rigby shot Sean a cold glance, "You understand that I don't _have_ to let you in on this arrest, don't you?"

"So sensitive are we now, Rigs?" Sean charmingly smiled, patting Rigby on the shoulder while they continued walking, "But, you know, unlike other people,**_ I've_ **never been the type to judge you; I've just been the one to point out all the mistakes you're making."

Michelle smiled secretly to herself.

"Hmmph!" Rigby guffawed as they now entered the squad room.

.

It seemed to be break time for 'the boys' of the Major Crime Unit. Four detectives were huddled around Randall Hurley's desk. From all the laughter heard, it was obvious they were trading off detective stories they've encountered. They were unaware that Rigby, Sean and Michelle were even there. Hurley was just beginning his story.

"...Joe, you may think your story about a perp shoplifting condoms was funny," Hurley was saying, "but I can top that! I once knew a guy who held up a bank with a BB gun!"

"Hmm...interesting, but not so impressive," Joe noted.

Sean nudged Michelle and whispered, "_Hey..._h_e's one of the guys who attacked me with the stun gun!"_

"...oh, I haven't even started yet!" Hurley continued his story to his cronies, "Know why the guy robbed the bank? Turns out he wanted to get away from his wife because, according to him, she was a holy terror!"

The detectives chuckled.

"He robbed a bank to get away from his wife?" questioned a second one, "No way!"

Michelle nudged Sean back and whispered, "_Don't tell me -he's the second guy who beat you?"_

Sean nodded.

"I don't think that is so unbelievable!" a third one piped in, regarding Hurley's story, "I have one of those holy terrors at home myself!"

Everyone laughed.

"I kid you not!" Hurley was saying, "The guy remained at the bank an extra _four minutes_ after the teller gave him the loot to ensure we would arrive and arrest him. In other words, he'd prefer prison over wedding vows!"

Laughter erupted.

When it was quiet again, Agent Rigby stepped forward and identified himself, Sean and Michelle. The detectives suddenly became quiet and looked uncomfortably around. Hurley, however, continued to look arrogant.

"What can I do for you, Mr. FBI Man and...his _go-fers_" he said smugly to Rigby, Sean and Michelle. He had not bothered to address any of them by name.

"I'm here because we've recovered a major crime ring in the Silver Springs area, trafficking in stolen goods." Agent Rigby explained.

Hurley continued to look disinterested.

"I'm sure you're mistaken, Agent," Hurley stated with certainty, "Nothing _ever_ happens in Silver Springs that we don't know about, right Joe?"

Joe adjusted his collar, "Hey...yeah...that's right."

"Unfortunately, it IS true that nothing happens in Silver Springs without your knowledge, Hurley," Sean spoke out, "and so you definitely know _all_ about the stolen merchandise kept secretly at a warehouse, since you're the pea-brain behind the operation."

Hurley had a reaction now as he stood up and got right into Sean's face, "Get the hell outta here!" He yelled angrily.

But Sean continued talking.

"Turns out you've been busy," Sean didn't back down, even through Hurley's face was right next to his, "According to our records, you and your illegal posse here have been clearing twenty thousand dollars a month selling stolen goods online through auction sites."

Hurley stabbed his index finger at Sean's chest with each word he spoke, "You. Are. A. LIAR!" he blustered.

"_Stand down, Hurley_," Agent Rigby warned, "or you'll soon experience the full wrath of the FBI."

Hurley stood back, holding out his opened hands in a familiar _'everything is cool_' gesture.

Michelle spoke up, "Agent Rigby, I think Detective Hurley is upset because he's confused. He doesn't understand that the Major Crime Unit is supposed to _prevent_ crimes not _commit_ them."

"Well, he won't be confused anymore," Rigby promised.

Upon hearing that, Hurley made an effort to escape and shot out of his seat. But he had the misfortune of passing right by Michelle. She calmly stuck out her leg, tripping him. When he fell and tried to get up, she kicked him in the back to keep him on the ground. Hard. Then she roughly brought him back up by the scuff of his neck.

"Where are you going, Hurley?" she questioned, right to his face.

"Ow! Lady!" His eyes bugged out in fright, "You've tripped me and then kicked me _on purpose_!"

"You call_ that_ a kick?" Michelle asked.

Then while still managing to keep a grip on Hurley, Michelle speedily side-kicked the two men whom Sean had singled out as having tasered him earlier.

"Oomphff!" both men reacted to her kicks, holding their stomachs.

"Now THAT'S a kick!" Michelle told Hurley as Sean looked down to hide a grin.

Hurley tried to swallow away his fear, "Uh...well..." he recovered as he sneered at Michelle," Still, _you broke my back!_" he accused her.

"I'm not your chiropractor, _ask if I care_!" she countered, as she shoved Hurley over to Rigby, who immediately handcuffed him.

And then as if on cue, the rest of Hurley's men turned at the sound of other footsteps as other agents entered the squad room, blocking the entrance way.

Then in his most official sounding voice, Rigby stated, "Randall Hurley, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

As Rigby read Hurley his rights, the other agents moved in and handcuffed the other detectives. Meanwhile, Hurley did not look repentant. He glared at Rigby.

"I'm going to sue the hell out of the FBI!" Hurley threatened.

"Good luck finding an attorney in prison, Hurley," Rigby stated in his usual calm tone.

Soon there were sounds of beepers and cell phones trilling throughout the squad room as the detectives looked at each other, baffled.

"Ignore those calls, gentlemen," announced Sean, "It's just your wives and mates warning you that agents are swarming your residences and cars. The warehouse has also been seized."

"You're bluffing," Hurley looked like he was ready to spit on Rigby, "You've got nothing on me. Nothing! Me and the boys aren't saying a word until we've spoken with our union attorneys!"

"You might want to reconsider and start talking, Hurley," Sean stated, "Your wife is already in a prison cell. Anything you tell us can make life easier for _her_."

Hurley's combative expression fell at last.

"You've...you've arrested _my wife_?"

"Oh yes," Michelle told him, "but don't torture yourself _too_ much picturing the horrible fates that await her if you do nothing,"

And as Rigby led him away, Hurley was cussing the three of them all the way down the squad room hallway.

.

They were on their way back to the office. As Sean drove on, he decided to broach Michelle about something he had been thinking about on and off the entire day. The only problem was, not only was it awkward, it also wasn't a big deal, except to him. He had stopped at a light and thought it was now or never.

"So, Michelle, going back to the morning, I wanted to ask you about who was the one who had actually been checking me out for injuries..."

The corners of Michelle's mouth upturned. She liked having the upper hand with Sean. From the passenger seat, she turned and looked directly at him, wanting to see his reaction.

"Are you _still_ on that topic, Sean?" she asked.

"There's no _still_ _on that topic_, Michelle," Sean stated, "I just want to know the answer to one simple question and then we'll be done with it: was it _you_ or _Edgar_ who checked me out?"

Michelle pondered how to answer. Although she had kept the conversation light regarding this situation, when Edgar had initially found Sean unconscious from being tasered, it had caused her quite a bit of concern:

_Edgar had called Michelle and when she immediately arrived, they dragged an unconscious Sean into his bed. She had already checked him out overall for broken bones and now that he was comfortably in his bed, she would now check for any swellings, bumps, or bruises. Worriedly she reached out and pulled his shirt out. She was surprised as to her reaction when she slid her hands beneath his clothing and awareness rippled through her. Her pulse seemed to race as her fingers passed over the muscles of his chest and the sturdy wall of his ribs. At one point, she jumped as Sean moaned when she touched one of his sides._

_ For a second she withdrew her hand, but when she heard nothing further coming from him, she began to unbutton his shirt. Immediately she felt these strange, indescribable flutterings in the pit of her stomach. As she unbuttoned his fourth button, her hand began to shake. If she got a reaction like this just from touching under his shirt, she couldn't imagine feelings he would evoke from her if this was not an examination._

_After feeling about his abdomen area she hit a sensitive spot and he let out another moan. She paused. And as she waited, a singular thought entered her mind: right now she had access to touch anywhere on his body she wanted to. Anywhere. And that thought titillated yet scared her at the same time. She turned and looked out the doorway of his bedroom._

_"Edgar!" she yelled out, "Could you get in here? You need to do something for me!"_

_._

Michelle snapped out of her musings to answer Sean's question as to whether it was her or Edgar that had examined her. She decided, for once, to tell the truth.

"If you must know," Michelle stated honestly to Sean as they continued driving, "it was Edgar who had examined you."

Sean gave a quick sideways glance to Michelle. From her tone and expression, he knew she was telling the truth. Yet he didn't understand why he felt a stab of disappointment at that knowledge. He could've sworn he felt her touch underneath his clothes. It felt so real.

"Figures," Sean stated, as he turned on the familiar street to reach the office.

Michelle took a deep breath in to calm herself. She had told herself that usually she had the upper hand in s situation, that she enjoyed routinely torturing Sean's curiosity. But looking back at her reaction to touching his body, she realized she was the one being tortured.

.

It was the end of another day. Sean, Michelle and Edgar were in the office. Sean had just gotten off the phone with Agent Rigby who informed them that the raid was a complete success and they had apprehended every member of Hurley's unit except one.

"Oh really?" Michelle said, "Whom did they miss?"

"I believe Rigby said it was a detective named Samuel Jones."

"How did he escape arrest?" Michelle asked.

"That's the strange thing," Sean said, "He didn't. Jones hasn't shown up for work in three days."

"So he skipped town?"

"They don't know."

Michelle tilted her head, "_They don't know?_ You mean there isn't any record of him using his credit card or withdrawing money from his ATM or _anything_?"

"No clues to his whereabouts at all," Sean was in deep thought, "Any theories they may have come up with is basically a shot in the dark."

Michelle at first slowly nodded at his words. Then as if inspired, her eyes became bright.

"Wait... Sean, what did you just say?"

"About what?"

"About the theories of what happened to Detective Jones."

Sean looked confused, "Uh...that...it's a shot in the dark?"

"Exactly!" she snapped her fingers and turned to Edgar, "Edgar, can you bring up the medical records for Detective Samuel Jones, please?"

Sean looked baffled, but she was too excited with anticipation as Edgar's fingers went flying. And then he was done.

"I have the medical records, Michelle," Edgar stated as he stared at the screen.

"Good," she stated, "_now_, can you check to see if Samuel Jones had ever been shot in the shoulder?"

Sean knew exactly what Michelle was getting at.

Edgar read the screen, "In the year 2005, Jones took a bullet on his right shoulder while breaking up a bank heist."

Sean and Michelle looked at one another while shouting in unison, "_Jones was the burnt victim!"_

_._

_._

_Please review_


	11. Chapter 11

Wondering

Chapter 11

Major Crime Unit boss Randall Hurley sat handcuffed in the lopsided chair reserved for suspects in the interrogation room He sat uncomfortably, yet he still managed to look arrogant. Across from him sat Sean and Michelle. Rigby allowed them 15 minutes alone with Hurley before the FBI takes him away. Not much time to find out what he knew about Rick Thunder.

"Okay, you've been on _my_ side of the table many times, " Sean told Hurley," so you know how this game is played. Here's where things stand. We've got you. We've got your crew. We've got the evidence. This will be the easiest case the DA has ever prosecuted."

Hurley folded his arms, "Eat dirt, you SOB."

Michelle, who had been sitting next to Sean, kicked the leg of Hurley's chair. Hard. Surprising him.

"Show some respect or we'll _kick_ it out of you!" Michelle demanded.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"If your case is so good," Hurley looked sullen, "what the hell do you even need me for?"

Michelle leaned in, "We know you're guilty; it's just a matter of saving the taxpayers some money."

"Yeah," added Sean, "And you could really cooperate by telling us what happened to Rick Thunder."

He had no reaction, "Rick who?"

"...the guy who was blackmailing you," Sean told him. "The guy who said if anything happened to him, his files would be mailed to someone who will find out about _you_ and that someone turned out to be _me_. That's right, he wasn't bluffing. We know he had been blackmailing you and I have everything I need to convict you. We've got photos, phone tap records and the stolen goods he won in your little auctions."

Hurley shrugged, "Okay, so you know I paid him, We gave him ten percent off the top to keep him quiet, but that don't mean I killed him."

"We didn't say you did," Michelle told him, "but you might have had someone else to do it. Just give us that name."

"I didn't have anything to do with what happened to him, so there's nothing to say," Hurley stated stubbornly.

Then let me give YOU a name," Sean stated as he pulled out a picture of Jones's charred corpse from his file and slid it across the table to Hurley, "Meet one of your men, Samuel Jones. Not so handsome anymore, is he?"

Hurley's eyes widened as he viewed the picture, and then looked up at Sean, his arrogance gone, "T-this is...Sammy? W-what happened to him?"

"Your buddy torched Thunder's office awhile back and managed to torch himself in the process," Sean told him.

"H-how..." Hurley took a hard swallow, "how do you know this burnt mess...was Sammy?"

"The coroner confirmed it," Michelle explained, "The evidence of a bullet in the shoulder of the burnt corpse helped to establish it was him."

By this time, Hurley had recovered and he once more put on a smug face. He pushed the picture back, "So?"

"Jones was part of your crew," Sean accused him, "You ordered him to kill Thunder and destroy his files."

"You can't prove ANY of that," Hurley stated, but he nervously began shaking one leg.

"You've admitted that Hunter was blackmailing you and the crew," Sean pointed out, "You were Jones's commanding officer in the MCU. Thunders's office was burned down and Jones's body was found in the rubble. Come on Hurley, you don't think the jury can put together the pieces of the puzzle? They will and when they're finished, it'll end up being a picture of an electric chair...with you strapped in it."

They could see sweat glistening on Hurley's forehead.

"Look, " Hurley claimed, "it was Sammy who didn't want to give up _his_ percentage; I was willing to pay off Thunder because I just figured it was the price of doing business. Sammy wanting to kill Thunder was of his own doing. He acted alone. You can't connect me to that murder."

"That's too bad you don't know any more about Thunder's disappearance," Sean said, "You're going to go to prison no matter what, but helping us might help your wife. Maybe she can get probation, you know, be there when you get out, _if_you get out. It all depends upon on how much you cooperate."

"Leave my wife outta this!" Hurley threatened.

Michelle leaned in to make her point, "Believe me, Hurley, if you leave her to rot in jail, she won't be the same person when she gets out."

He was really sweating now.

"Tell us where Thunder's body is, Hurley," Sean said.

Hurley shook his head, looking distraught, "I told you, I DON'T KNOW...but I'll testify to whatever you want against Sammy; I'll say I know he was the one who killed Thunder and you can close your case, then."

Sean looked disinterested, "You think committing perjury on the stand will get your wife probation?"

"Please, PLEASE, my wife is innocent!" Hurley claimed, sounding desperate, "You've got me and I'll help you get a killer for Thunder's murder. It's a win-win for you two!"

It was more than likely he really didn't know about Rick's whereabouts. Hurley had nothing else to give them.

"Good-bye, Hurley," Michelle told him, as she and Sean stood up to leave.

They passed Rigby on the way out, who was going to interrogate Hurley further about the robberies, something Sean and Michelle were not involved in. This case turned out to be a dead end when it came to finding Rick.

So as far as Sean and Michelle were concerned, Case Number two was closed.

.

Sean and Michelle were enjoying a quick coffee at Lucy's Cafe before they departed for the day. They sat at their usual spot at the counter.

"So, Sean," Michelle was saying, "Any chance that Hurley is lying? That maybe he did ordered the hit on PI Rick, but he's letting a dead man take the fall?"

Sean shrugged, "We'll never know since the would-be killer was burnt to a crisp."

"But if Hurley _did_ order the hit, then he's getting away with murder!" she pointed out.

"He's doing time, no matter what, Michelle. Nobody is getting away with anything. You know what it's like for a cop to go to prison?"

"You're right," she sighed, "that's punishment enough, I guess. Still, Hurley is in for a conspiracy and robbery charge, not murder. His wife will probably be set free soon and he could be out on probation in two years. So the way I see it, he won the contest in a way."

Sean took a sip of his coffee, and then he turned to face her, "There it is again. What is it with you and everything being a contest? You really are competitive, Michelle."

"I am NOT!" she insisted, "...I'm not competitive...I just like to _win_, is all..."

Sean grinned, "Do you hear yourself, Michelle? In your way of looking at things, coming in second means you're the first loser..."

"Precisely!" she exclaimed, "So what's your point?"

A wry, affectionate smile tugged at his lips as Michelle took another sip of her coffee.

The bantering was all in fun, but the reality of it was that he knew her _too_well. He really was her best friend, but unfortunately she was physically attracted to him, as well. That little dance at the bar and grill proved that. Damn! She had to make sure things didn't go any further.

She took her final sip, " I better go now..." she stated suddenly, getting off her stool. She started to reach into her pockets for some money.

Sean was really enjoying their little interaction and felt disappointment at the news that she wanted to leave. But he couldn't exactly stop her.

"Don't worry about it...I've got the bill," he insisted.

She couldn't even look at him, for if she did, she might want to stay a little longer.

"Okay, thanks, Sean...see you at work tomorrow," she gave a small smile as she turned away from him, not wanting him to see the desperate yearning in her eyes, as she headed for the door.

"Bye...Michelle," he said softly, forcing himself to stay put and not chase after her.

.

It was the end of a day and Sean was back at the houseboat by himself.

Usually he didn't mind being by himself, but this evening, he felt the loneliness. He was once again leaning against the railings of his houseboat as the sun began to set. Sean tried to block off the image that the last time he stood here he had been attacked by with a stunned gun.

Instead, his gaze scanned the river, the misty breeze curling around his face and ears. He really loved his office location. Sunsets were beautiful everywhere, but to Sean, a sunset over the waters left a comforting imprint on his soul. With the sun's descent into the curve of the earth's horizon, the colors in the sky started shifting gradually from yellows to various hues of orange.

As he continued watching the rushing waters, the image of Michelle rowing her scull off in the distance came into his imaginary visual. It gave him a calming sensation to watch her. He pictured the way the waters sparkled as the oars hit the water, splashing it gently as she moved her body in perfect sync with nature. He had always admired her passion in that sport, devoting her mind and body to finding the ideal rhythmic stroke. He liked watching the gentle glide of her scull as it sailed across...

"Sean?"

From behind him, he heard her voice. At first he thought it was the softly breeze blowing, but then he heard his name again, faintly stronger.

"Sean."

Sean straightened up from the railing. It had to be her. But why was she here? He slowly turned around. It _was_ her. Michelle must have driven on the streets to get here, which is why he had not spotted her until now.

"Michelle?" he questioned, not quite believing she was standing there.

"Hey, hi," she smiled shyly and took one step forward.

Amid the silence that followed, she, too looked out on the waters. Lavender highlights from the sky glistened across the cool blue waters. A light breeze fanned across their faces as the air started to feel a little cool. She turned back to watch his face.

"You're probably wanting to know why I'm here," she stated.

She didn't know why she had actually come back. But sitting in solitude in her apartment, she felt empty and isolated. She had an urge to see Sean again in order to feel... well, to feel. He made her laugh, made her think and he understood her. With that thought fresh in her mind, she got up and put on her familiar blue peacoat jacket. If she could talk to him for even five minutes, it would've been worth the trip down here to see him.

So that's why she ended up at Sean's.

"It has crossed my mind to ask you why you are here," Sean responded.

Michelle held her head up, "I was...thinking of... you." she at first was going to think of an excuse, but thought honesty was the best.

"Oh?"

Sean looked stunned as their gazes intricately locked. He bravely took two steps forward until they were now directly in front of each other. A slightly stronger breeze suddenly picked up, gently blowing strands of Michelle's hair in her face. Sean was held spellbound and when his hand reached up to brush her wind-blown hair away from her face, he heard an audible gasp come from her.

"I've been...thinking about you, too, Michelle," Sean honestly declared, his voice thick, as he watched her with intent eyes.

Her eyes widened at the implication. Michelle was suddenly acutely aware of how dangerous the situation was becoming. Yet in her inner turmoil, pure desire stirred and she couldn't break away from the situation. She was well aware where this was headed and she couldn't stop the momentum.

"Sean...I know...we're colleagues..."

He took a deep breath.

"We are, Michelle," he said, his voice jagged.

"And though I hate to admit it," she said with a slight smile, "you are my friend. In fact, my _best_ friend."

His face was so close to hers as they stood face to face. Sean's hand unexpectedly reached up and touched her cheek. The feel of her face, so feminine and warm, made his insides tighten into knots. Every instinct clamored for him to pull her closer.

He swallowed hard, "Just this once, Michelle...just this space of a moment, let's be more than friends..."

His implied words in addition to the gentle caress sent Michelle's pulse racing. And as Sean shifted slightly and pulled her in closer, she began to step away, yet secretly hoping he would stop her...

.

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_(I forgot to personally thank Sunshineforever13! Thank you!)_

_Please review_


	12. Chapter 12

Moving Forward

Chapter 12

It was bound to happen.

It was inevitable.

They were two best friends who shared everything but their hearts.

Sean had always prided himself on having a logical mind, but right now he was operating completely on raw emotions. Sean and Michelle had always had an inescapable liking for one another, but now it had developed into an emotional and physical attraction as well. Or perhaps it had always been there from the beginning but they chose to ignore it.

Until they couldn't resist any longer.

Michelle felt she had been fighting against her feelings for so long that her body intuitively began to back away from him. Then uncomfortably she turned and escaped into the houseboat as Sean followed her inside. Judging from the blush that rose to her cheeks, it was unusual to see Michelle looking so hesitant and non assertive. And Sean decided he liked this vulnerable side of her. It made her even more enticing.

"Sean..." she began, as she watched him step closer to her.

"Don't say it, Michelle," he told her, his gaze subtly seductive, "and don't stop this."

She lifted her head, "I was just going to warn you not to step on my foot!"

His slow smile at her teasing made her heart beat faster. Hesitantly she began to back away again. To stop her backward movement, Sean deftly reached out and grabbed onto reinforced placket of her jacket. His strong fingers held onto the edge as he pulled her closer to him, his eyes never leaving hers. But instead of going along meekly, she managed to regain some of her spunk. She stood her ground, her gaze bright with challenge. Then she clamped her hand over his hands that held tightly onto her jacket.

"Just to let you know, Sean, I could shove you so hard away that you'll collide into a wall and leave a mark," she gave him a warning look, but her voice was a bit shaky.

"It'll be worth it," his eyes were caressing hers.

There was a flutter of panic when she realized she wanted him, too. He was standing so close now that she found herself staring at his close-shaven stubble, a shadow that enhanced his masculine appeal. Her gaze then traveled to his mouth as her heart thundered in excitement at the prospect of what was to come.

"So then," she lifted her eyes to meet his, "what happens now?"

He looked at her as if he could read her every thought and emotion.

That's easy," he stated, as his hand came up to caress her cheek, "We take the next step..."

Michelle couldn't move or breathe as he lowered his head to hers. Her mind was telling her _but this is Sean_, but her body was screaming for her to shut up and enjoy the pleasure of his kiss.

At first contact, Sean's mouth was warm yet sensual as the kiss began slow. Yet she found his kiss wickedly erotic with his complete lack of urgency. Then as the kiss deepened, the soft caress became scorching and it drew fire to the surface of her skin. She found herself winding her arms around his neck as her body strained towards him with a deep need, pressing forward into his body. Their bodies melded together as tightly as the layers of their clothing would allow.

The rhythm of their breaths turned desperate as their bodies tightened with delicious desires. Sean lifted his head and began to nuzzle the side of her cheek while his hand smoothed over her back. She closed her eyes as a moan escaped her. And when their lips connected again, their breaths mingled in puffs of heat.

_Riiing! ...Riiiing!_

And then from halfway across the room, the phone on Edgar's desk rang.

"Noooo," Sean groaned, his passion still rising.

"Don't. Answer. It..." Michelle murmured breathlessly, as a flood of sensation threatened to overwhelmed her. Sean continued kissing her over and over again, intoxicated by the softness of her lips.

Finally at the fourth ring, the ring went to speaker phone.

"This is Rigby," greeted the familiar voice, " And I gather neither one of you are at the office as of this moment. Big surprise there. I've always assumed that neither one of you have anything else going on in your lives."

Both Sean and Michelle stopped and looked over at the phone. Michelle gave a frustrated sigh. Sean did not look happy with the interruption.

"Well," Sean said ruefully to Michelle as he took a deep breath in, "leave it to Rigby to kill a private moment.".

Michelle sent him an empathetic smile as Rigby continued, his voice loud and clear through the speaker.

"I thought I'd leave you a message, updating you as to the status of Randall Hurley," he was saying, " We now have a sworn deposition from Hurley saying that one of the other agents, a Samuel Jones, wanted to kill your ex-pal Rick Thunder and burn his files rather than pay him off. Between the deposition and the circumstantial evidence, the DA and the FBI are satisfied. And even though there is no body, we are going to assume that Hurley's underling, Jones, shot Thunder and then set his office on fire before accidentally being burned himself. So that's it. The homicide investigation has been declared officially o-"

BEEP! The tape had ended, cutting off the rest of Rigby's phone message.

"The advantage of having a cheap phone recorder," Michelle smiled, referring to Rigby being cut off.

"If only we could do that to Rigby in real life," joked Sean.

The room became silent again. It took a few minutes for both of them to regain their composure. Sean straightened his jacket while Michelle fixed her hair. He then rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture of_, well, this is awkward._

"I think what we started was pretty...sensational." he stated, and then hesitantly added, "do you...um, want to talk about it?"

Michelle averted his eyes. What was she to say? It had all been so unexpected. It was as if she had unleashed all her pent up feelings in that one kiss. Who knew kissing Sean would feel like that? Even now, she wished his fingertips would touch the side of her neck and brush against its sensitive nerves. And she hated that she thought that.

"I think...I'm not sure...It's just..." she paused, as she considered the appropriate words, "we're colleagues, Sean. And when it comes to investigating cases, we seem to do quite well as partners..."

"We do," he agreed.

And he was staring at her with an intensity that sent hot and cold shivers through her body.

"...and," she was finding it hard to concentrate, "...and... I wonder, do we want to mess with that, you know what I mean, Sean?" her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

"Yeah, I do," he stated a bit harsher than he had intended, "and you're right, Michelle. We have a case to work, and it wouldn't do if we were, uh, distracted. We'll deal with it once we've discovered what happened with Rick."

He hadn't meant to sound so clinical, so cold. But he was frustrated. He remembered the remarkable heat of her body as he held her in his arms and he liked how sweet her mouth had tasted. So of course it bothered him that this may be the first _and_ last time he would ever feel her so close, so intimate. However, she was right. They had a good working relationship, and that's what they needed to concentrate on now.

"I better go," Michelle suddenly seemed in a rush to leave as she headed for the door.

He forced a cheery smile, "Oh...sure, " he glanced over at her and tried to sound casual, "We'll talk later?"

When he looked at her, he almost seemed like his old self, but Michelle knew better. He was feeling as tormented as her.

Maybe tomorrow it wouldn't be so awkward, Michelle thought sardonically. Tomorrow they would continue with the investigation, go back to being professionals in the office.

But things had changed between them, although they pretended it hadn't.

She gave a wry smile, "_Riiight,_ after the case and then we'll talk. Good night, Sean."

He sighed, "Night, Michelle."

.

Sean was in the office bright and early the next morning. He had a sleepless night and instead of spending the early morning hours tossing and turning, he decided he might as well get up,sit in the office, and do some work.

Despite the 'distraction' from yesterday, he and Michelle had come a long way with their investigations. A prisoner had been wrongly convicted. Case number two regarding the stolen goods at a warehouse had been solved. They now knew who the burnt body was.

But the main question still remained unanswered.

_What happened to Rick Thunder?_

It must somehow be connected to case number one, the one regarding Barry Mason, the man convicted of killing his embezzling partner. But how? Was it more than coincidental that neither Rick nor Romeo Reed's bodies have been discovered? Even with that intriguing conundrum, Sean was finding it hard to keep his mind on business.

He found himself trying to recapture last night when he had held Michelle in his arms. His heart contracted with a feeling he had never known before...a feeling that was too dangerous to examine. And yet...the sensation of her sweet, sensual mouth glided over him in relentless waves...

"Good morning, Sean." Michelle tried to act normal as she greeted Sean, but she could barely breathe. She was dressed in her 'uniform' of a light blue and gray suit, meaning she did not row her scull this morning.

Sean's heart lurched at the sound of her voice.

"You're here pretty early," he had to work to keep his voice steady, "did you sleep well?"

She shrugged, "Probably as well as you."

She then left to go in the kitchen to get herself some coffee. It was obvious they were not going to talk about what occurred between them though they were keenly aware of the other's presence.

When she returned with her mug, she sat on the occupied chair next to his desk. As Sean watched her, he thought that if it were another time and place, Michelle could have been a supermodel, with her lovely figure and lush blonde hair. But it was her eyes that were the most beautiful. They were extraordinary. Penetrating blue...the same blue of a perfect day sky..intelligent, expressive eyes.

He could hear Michelle's voice from the kitchen, "So why are you here so early?"

"I was trying to figure out Rick's activities before his murder," Sean explained, "that might help us locate him."

Michelle took a sip of her morning brew, looking at him from the rim of her mug. This morning when she had entered, he had a dreamy, far-away look, which made him seem even more attractive, if that was possible.

"So what conclusion did you draw about PI Rick's disappearance, Sean?" she asked casually.

"Well, one thing puzzles me about Rick's phone records," Sean stated, his distant expression now gone, "is that he had made several calls to the casino, presumably to talk with the owner."

"That's understandable," Michelle stated, "after all, that was how he figured out that the missing Romeo Reed was a gambler."

"True; but why would Rick make SEVERAL calls to the casino?" Sean asked, "He would've needed only _one_ call to validate that Romeo was a frequent gambler."

Michelle sat back, unable to answer that, "Why, indeed," she wondered.

Sean had been leaning back in his chair the entire time, but now he sat up, staring forward.

"My god," he murmured under his breath at the revelation, "I know why Rick made several calls to the casino!"

Michelle watched him, "Go on."

He slowly turned towards her, "Rick was originally hired by Barry Mason to find the _killer _of Romeo Reed, right?"

"That's right," she affirmed, " And when P.I. Rick disappeared, Mason then hired _us_ to find the killer of Romeo Reed."

"_But_, " Sean theorized, "what if... Rick _wasn_'t _l_ooking for Romeo Reed's killer?" his eyes were lit with excitement., "What if he were looking for someone _else_?"

"Looking for someone else?" Michelle repeated, totally confused, "Sean, I don't get it."

"Rick made several calls to the casino that Romeo frequented, right?" Sean theorized, "So what if instead of looking for Romeo Reed's _killer,_" he paused for effect," Rick Thunder was ACTUALLY looking for Romeo Reed_?_"

_._

_._

_(A/N: I've been disheartened by the cancellation of the show. I wasn't sure I wanted to continue with the story, but I was soooo touched by all the reviews and PM's that I **promise** I will see this story to the end! Even if only one person is reading this! I'm so glad others enjoyed this show as much as me. Did you see all the post on King and Maxwell Facebook? EVERYONE is protesting the cancellation! Anyway, thanks so much for the encouragement...look for a posting weekly from me! and please keep reading and reviewing!)_


	13. Chapter 13

Lost and Found

Chapter 13

Sean had just announced that Rick Thunder had not been searching for Romeo's _killer,_ but for Romeo himself, which meant Romeo Reed was not dead, as everyone had thought.

"Okay, Sean, slow your roll," Michelle said, "Remember his cut off toe which was found in the trunk of Mason's car? The police had already determined that Romeo was hacked to death and then his body was tossed in the Potomac. Are you saying Romeo survived all _that_?"

"No, of course not," Sean said, "I'm saying...what if Romeo was _never murdered to begin with?"_

"How is that possible?" Michelle tried to straighten him out, "According to the police files, Romeo's blood was discovered all over his own house, all over the weapon, and all over the trunk of Mason's car. If Romeo wasn't murdered, where is he?"

"Just consider this, Michelle," Sean said, "suppose...just _suppose_...Romeo faked his own death and then framed Mason for his death?"

"Wow... that's...that's certainly a new angle," Michelle sat back to ponder that possibility, _"Buuut._..it's possible, I suppose. Romeo had embezzled millions which had never been recovered, so in theory, he _could_ have run with the money. And with that money, he could have had massive surgery done in order to create a whole new identity. So he's set for life while Barry Mason rots in prison!"

"And I bet Rick figured that out, too!" Sean sounded excited, "Like I've said before, Rick may have been unscrupulous, _but_ he was actually a very good investigator."

"Okay, assuming everything we've just theorized is the truth and Romeo assumed a new identity," reasoned Michelle, "how do we locate him?"

"Not so hard," Sean assured her, "A man can change his face, his identity, but he can't change who he is. Whoever Romeo is now, he would still indulge in all the same passions he did _before _he created his new life, right?"

"Right...and if that holds true," Michelle gleefully snapped her fingers, "he had one main hobby, which is, Romeo Reed loves to..."

"GAMBLE!" they both shouted in unison.

.

Michelle was in her apartment packing for a long weekend mini-vacation. Well, not quite a _vacation; _more like a pleasurable work assignment. She and Sean were heading out to the Rocky Gap Casino, supposedly Romeo's favorite recreation spot to gamble. The place was located two hours from Washington DC in a resort in Western Maryland.

They were setting their sights on finding Romeo Reed. It seemed almost like an impossibility since they've only seen old pictures of him which would not help if he had major work done on his face.

Then again, he did have a missing toe.

Plus they had other clues to go by. They knew to look for a rich loner, a person who had wads of money to spend with few friends.

Michelle placed a collared shirt in the suitcase. No, too business- like. She needed something...sassy, but classy. This was a casino resort, after all. People dress like they were having fun, not filling out paperwork or going to the gun range. She went back into her closet to look at her meager selection of dresses.

Men were so lucky, she thought. They just had to throw in a toothbrush, shaver, two pants and two shirts two shoes in a duffel bag and they were good to go. Women, on the other hand, had to have coordinating outfits with matching shoes of various heel widths in addition to a curling iron, intimate clothing, jewelry and make up. That's why most of the time she would just reached for a pants suit. Easy out, easy on. No fuss, no mess.

The ringtone of "A Moment Like This" played.

She reached over and scooped up her cellphone, "This is Maxwell," she answered.

"Hey, Michelle," hearing Sean's voice made her smile, "I just wanted to remind you to pack something really sexy to wear...maybe something that plunges in the front or in the back, or better yet, let it plunge in the front AND the back."

"You wish!" Michelle countered, "but you can just erase that from your mind, Sean. I am _not_ going to dress up as your fantasy woman!"

Sean was smiling through the entire exchange. Just hearing Michelle's voice brightened his day.

"Can you please get over yourself?" Sean said in a teasing manner, "You'll be dressing to impress our target, not me. You can be the Juliet to his Romeo."

"Don't assume too much about our Romeo, Sean," Michelle warned, "He may be looking for another Romeo to serenade. Remember that time we did surveillance on that one guy in the bar and he wanted to ride a cowboy, not a cowgirl?"

She smiled to herself when Sean almost choked.

"That...that was NOT how I remembered it! He was NOT interested in me!" Sean almost sputtered out his words over the phone, "Bar-guy was just enjoying...my scintillating conversation!"

"... Oh, don't sell yourself short, Sean," she said calmly, "Just remember to pack a tux because you may be the one who will need to dress to impress. A white tux would really contrast nicely with his black one..."

" Mi-_chelle_..."

"...so look good, Sean, " she continued, "because with a name like Romeo, he must be very romantic, and who am I to get in the way of true love?"

"Very funny, " he said sardonically, "Okay, forget about the sexy dress. If you want to pack one of your man suits..."

"They are not 'man suits'" Michelle corrected him, "they are what is known as A_gent professional wear._"

"in other words, you dress to kill," Sean stated, "only in a literal sense."

Michelle smiled, "Precisely!"

"Okay, go ahead and pack your frilly little Agent-suits then," he teased, "maybe you can tease him by forgetting to buckle your belt or one of your pockets could be ripped."

She had to stifle her laugh.

...Byeeeee Sean," she said, doing a _tootle-loo- fluttering- fingers_ kind of wave.

"Bye, Michelle."

She hung up her cellphone, still smiling. Oh, Sean... She stared fondly at her cellphone. Her mind was filled with anticipation for this weekend. Even now, she recalled how soft and pliant she had been when they danced, and finally when they kissed.

_Oh, stop_. She shook her head and made a promise never again to pick up one of Sean's romance novels.

Going back to her closet, she reached in and grabbed the sexiest dress she owned. She told herself she was playing a part for a target, but in the back of her mind she was dressing for Sean. Usually she just rolled an article of clothing before tossing it in her suitcase. This particular dress she gently folded. Hopefully at the casino, it'll bring her luck.

.

Interstate highway 210 north was a pretty straight highway out of the city.

"I still don't see why I couldn't have driven," Michelle was complaining as Sean drove once again.

"That's because I've been with you when you've driven on an open highway," Sean commented, "and to you, any driver slower than you is a jerk and anyone driving faster than you is just plain crazy!"

"Hey, at least driving has taught me how to cuss properly," she stated bluntly, "and since we are on the topic of driving, what about you?"

"What about me?" Sean asked, "What's wrong with my driving?"

"If you don't know an area, you tend to drive around and around, refusing to ask for directions when we get lost..."

Sean kept his hands on the wheel and turned halfway to face her, "I do not!" he said indignantly.

"Remember the last time we drove to Springfield to do surveillance on that counterfeiter?" Michelle reminded him, "You kept driving around in circles so much that we had to eventually pull over because the tires got dizzy."

"Oh ha-ha," Sean said, "I wouldn't talk about bad driving maneuvers, Michelle. After all, of the two of us, who got a parking ticket on _her_ windshield the other morning?"

"Oh, you thought that was a parking ticket, Sean_?_"

"Yes, especially since at the top of the paper, it said, '_Parking Fine'_, " he pointed out, "in big bold letters, if I recall."

She pfffft, "That paper said '_Parking Fine'_ because the person was just complimenting me on my driving abilities'."

They both laughed, lightening the mood.

"I'll tell you what," Sean compromised, "We'll be driving on I-210 for about a half an hour, and when we hit I-70, I'll let you take over, how's that?"

Michelle grinned. It felt good to be in a win-win situation, "Sounds good to me!"

.

Taking the I-70, The Rocky Gap Casino was a scenic drive, full of winding roads and forest trees. They had switched drivers and now Michelle was behind the wheel. Because the casino was located in a secluded resort high in the mountains, the closer they got to the destination, the more narrow the road became.

It twisted along the jagged mountainside at certain points and the tires of vehicle screeched when Michelle made the hairpin turns. What was worse, at certain spots there were a lack of guard rails and the blinding glare of the sun didn't help.

"Look out, Michelle!" Sean warned as they took one corner a little too fast, "You're driving too fast around the corner!"

"Give it a rest, Sean," Michelle felt relaxed, "I'm not speeding, I'm qualifying!"

"Wha-" Sean yelled as he was tossed to one side when she swerved through another winding road.

"My god, Michelle," Sean stated as he looked at her from the passenger side, "You make me never want to travel again, except on foot!"

Michelle let out a frustrated sigh and slowed the vehicle to an acceptable speed.

She had just completed a sharp turn and had been driving straight for 500 feet when a flash of light blinded both of them in the eyes. Something shiny was obviously laying in the middle of the highway. They both had to squint due to the glare, as Michelle swerved to avoid hitting it.

"Whoa!" Sean said as they passed it. He looked back, "what the hell was _that_ on the road?"

Michelle looked at her rearview mirror, "I don't know..."

"Maybe you should go back," Sean suggested, "it could pose a danger for other drivers...maybe we should get it out of the way..."

"Really? Go back to supposedly help others? You_ are_ a boy scout, aren't you?" she asked, but she had a pleased look on her face as she made a sharp turn of the steering wheel, "Hold on!"

Michelle maneuvered a quick u-turn and came to a screeching halt at one of the edges of the cliff, off the highway. She opened the driver's side door and got out, followed by Sean.

They went to retrieve the shiny object, which was still a distance away. Down the highway, they saw something catch the light of the noontime sun. It looked like a bright silver propeller about the size of a large pizza.

"What is _that_?" Sean yelled over to Michelle, who was almost to the object..

She bent down and picked it up as Sean came up behind her, "Looks like something that must have fallen off the rim of someone's tires. "

"I guess the driver had trouble negotiating a turn," Sean stated. " Whoever lost this 22-inch spinner must be pretty upset over the lost. This kind of spinner usually sell for thousands of dollars."

"So I'm to believe that you know all about _spinners_?" Michelle inquired, "since when did you become such an expert?"

"I'm not," Sean explained, "I just know about them from Rick. I remembered how Rick was always so proud of his tricked-out Escalade with chrome spinners on the rims..."

He paused and both he and Michelle had a worried look on their faces. No it couldn't be. Rick was looking for Romeo Reed and he _could_ have taken this route to try and locate him at the casino, too. So this spinner could be...

"Sean," Michelle slowly shook her head, hoping against hope, "you don't think, against a million to one odds, that this spinner belongs to..."

"I'm praying it doesn't belong to a black Escalade SUV," he said as he quickly turned and looked all around. At last he pointed to the ground, "Look! Over there, Michelle... check out those skid marks over there..."

With growing trepidation he followed a set of skid marks to the edge of the cliff and peered over the side into the ravine below. Michelle followed quickly behind him. She knew something was wrong when his body stiffened as he looked down the canyon. She, too, gazed down below.

There was a trail of freshly scraped dirt and dislodged rocks that stretched for fifty yards.

And crumbled like a discarded water bottle at the bottom of that trail was an overturned black Escalade SUV.

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_Please review_


	14. Chapter 14

The Rescue

Chapter 14

It didn't take Sean and Michelle too long to react to seeing an Escalade SVU laying at the bottom of a cliff, among some boulders. Sean, especially, was afraid he would find the body of his friend Rick Thunder down there.

"Sean," Michelle looked distressed as she looked down, "We need to get down there... Rick -or somebody- may still be in that vehicle."

"I know...Okay, you go down, I'll join you in a sec," Sean told her, "I need to go back in the car and get my backpack first aid kit."

Michelle looked stunned, "Really? You need a_ backpack _to hold your first aid items?"

"I Just keep the essentials," he explained, "you know, the usual emergency items: bandages, disinfectants, nonperishable food, bottled water, flashlights, a folded tarp, duct tape, rope..."

Michelle couldn't help grinning as he started going down the entire list.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Michelle said, "You're a hospital connected to a sporting goods store... just go, already...I'll check to see if there's anyone down there."

She went one way as he went another, back to the car.

As Michelle headed down the steep side of the cliff, Sean reached his car, tossed the spinner inside, and grabbed the backpack. It took some time for him to get down the ravine. As he made his way down, at one point time, he slid into a thorny brush before he made it safely to the bottom.

Approaching the wreckage,he noted that the overturned Escalade was nearly flattened on its ends. This had occurred when it had tumbled down the cliff, end on end on end. It was now resting on its side, at an angle, against several boulders, creating a tunnel underneath it.

"MICHELLE!" he yelled, looking about, "_Where are you?_"

"DOWN HERE...UNDER THE VEHICLE!" Michelle shouted from somewhere underneath the wreckage, "There's someone who needs help over here!"

Sean hastily rushed over to the sound of her voice. At last, he spotted Michelle. She was squatted down, underneath the tunneled vehicle and was waving him forward. Due to the shadow from the Escalade up above, Sean had to get out the flashlight from his backpack. Flipping it on, he used it to sweep the area before aiming his light at what looked like a man's leg sticking out.

Michelle was busy moving some rocks away from the still unidentified body in order to make more room for Sean.

"Is the guy breathing?" Sean kneeled down, trying to look around her. He could now make out the lower part of a man's body, his jeans torn and blood-splattered.

"Yes, but barely," Michelle said, as she moved aside so that Sean could get a better view. She looked hesitantly at Sean, "Is it..."

Sean maneuvered his body until he got a good look at the face of the injured person. He let out a relieved breath.

"It's Rick Thunder, alright."

Sean could see that Rick's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, his lips cracked and bloody, but he was alive.

"I tried to feel his body for broken bones," Michelle announced, her voice sounding unusually downbeat, "but his body's a mess, Sean. I'm sure he must be in real pain. I've already ripped opened one of his pants leg because his calf was so swollen...and I think he probably has a broken fibula."

"Give me some more room so that I can take a better look," Sean stated as Michelle immediately moved aside.

After Sean crawled in further, he ripped opened Rick's shirt and using his flashlight, he saw the blue-purple discoloration on his chest and around his belly.

Michelle leaned in and scowled, "That's a lot of bruising there."

Sean solemnly nodded, "and unfortunately, the pattern of the bruise marks indicates that he may have some internal bleeding and perhaps even a broken pelvis."

"Sean, there's something else you should know," Michelle knelt by his side, "when I had checked him out, a drop of liquid had fallen on his cheek," she made a distasteful expression, "I think he had dragged himself underneath the cracked windshield wiper container in order to quench his thirst."

Sean nodded, "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to survive and cleaner water is better than nothing, I guess. He then leaned into his friend's body and spoke in a slightly louder voice, "Rick...RICK! Can you hear me? _RICK!_ It's Sean King."

At first there was no movement.

Michelle felt his pulse, "He's alive, but his pulse is weak. Try again."

"HEY! Come on, Buddy Boy," Sean patted him lightly on the cheek, "RICK! It's SEAN!"

For what seemed like eternity, Rick groaned and then moved his head as Michelle and Sean gave relieved looks. At least Rick was responsive. Rick slowly opened his eyes and squinted. He seemed to be struggling with focusing his eyes. When he seemed to get his bearings, he focused, and the first person he saw was Michelle.

"Ohhhh!" he murmured, letting out a moan of pain, "I'm dead...and my angel's here...take me away, Babes'."

Michelle smiled to reassure him, "Hi Rick. I'm Sean's friend, Michelle Maxwell. We're here to help you."

"Sean?!" Thunder turned his head the other way and his eyes became wide when he got a view of Sean.

"Sean" he groaned, "...just remember...I saw her _first._"

Sean smiled in relief. His old friend would be fine.

"I forgot how multi-talented you are, Rick," Sean said as he reached into his backpack, "you can compliment a woman and piss me off at the same time."

Michelle grinned.

From the backpack, Sean then pulled out for the water bottle. He unscrewed the top of it, lifted Rick's head and held the bottle to his lips. Reflexively, Rick opened his mouth and greedily sucked in the water.

"Easy, Rick, easy," Sean warned him, "you don't want to overdo it. If you vomit it back up, you'll be even more dehydrated." After a few gulps, Sean laid Rick back down and took the bottled water away.

While Sean had been quenching Rick's thirst, and cleaning the wounds, Michelle had gone to retrieve some padding from the car seats, and some hard plastic from the door panels. By the time she had arrived, Rick had lost consciousness again.

"We can use these items, along with your duct tape, to make a splint for Rick's leg," she suggested as she displayed the items she salvaged for him to see.

Once again, Sean was impressed with Michelle's quick thinking.

"That is an excellent idea," he quipped, "and if you rip out the dashboard, we can apply duct tape to it and build a brain!"

"Very funny," she said sarcastically, trying to hide a smile, "Keep talking like that and I'll be applying the duct tape to your mouth!"

He grinned, "We can talk kinky later, Michelle. Meanwhile, let's get to work."

Sean reached over to take the items. Upon contact with his hand, Michelle felt a shock go through her body at the contrast between the surrounding cool air and Sean's warm hand. That did not escape Sean's notice as they became lost in each other's eyes. He felt a tugging sensation in his chest as his hand lingered on hers longer than was necessary.

Forcing themselves to ignore the sensations, Sean, along with Michelle's help, worked as quickly as he could to stabilize Rick for travel by fashioning a splint for him. As Sean tore the last of the duct tape from its roll, he winced at the effort and clutched his side.

Michelle noted it immediately.

"Sean," she asked, looking concerned, "did you hurt yourself?"

"It's nothing, Michelle," he stated, "I scraped my side on some thorn bushes on my way down. It's nothing compared to rolling over and over again down a cliff in a vehicle."

That did nothing to stop Michelle from worrying, "Oh? Let me see, Sean," Without invitation, she reached over and ran her hand down the side of Sean's body where he had previously held onto.

"OOOOooo," at one spot he winced.

"When we get Rick back up," Michelle told him, "I want to take a look at your injury."

"It's minor," Sean insisted, "unless that is your way of wanting to see me shirtless."

Michelle quickly removed her hand and visibly rolled her eyes.

"Men can be so simple at times," she said with disdain.

"_True_, so what's your point?"

Michelle would have loved to continue the bantering, but Rick was in bad shape. He had stopped moaning, probably because he lacked the strength.

"I think we better get PI Rick out of here and into a hospital ASAP," she suggested.

"You're right," Sean said, his attention now focused on his friend, "We can use the tarp in my backpack and put it underneath him and drag him back up to the road."

"Okay," Michelle stated as she grabbed the backpack and rummaged through it, "Here it is. Let's do it."

It took quite a bit of maneuvering of Rick's body to get the tarp underneath his body without hurting him. At last it was done.

Every now and then, they could hear from up above the sounds of a few scattered cars drive by.

Michelle lifted her head, "Oh-oh," she stated, as she looked at Sean nervously.

"Oh, _no you don't,_ Michelle..don't give me a NEW worried look!" Sean told her "I think we have enough to deal with as it is."

She tried to sound calm,"It might be nothing, so don't be mad, Sean...but it's about your car," she explained "I was so anxious to park it, I didn't set the parking brake on. I just left it parked on the curve. I thought we were only going to pick up that shiny item on the road. I didn't know we were going to find...well, PI Rick, of all people!"

"What?! You didn't put the parking brake on my car?" Sean sounded incredulous, "So you're saying that you left _my car_ parked over a cliff to fend for itself on the blind side of a tight curve?"

"Oh, for gosh sake, Sean, it's not as if I had abandoned a child!" she countered, "all I need to do is go back up and-" she began but she stopped talking when she took a look up.

High above them, they heard the growl of a loud engine of a large vehicle on the road. And from the sound of it, it was not stopping which meant there was a possibility that Sean's car would be hit. And if it was, with Sean's car at the edge of a cliff and all...

The appearance of a motor home had rounded the curve too quickly. The driver had applied the brakes, but it was too late. There was a crushing sound as it smashed into the rear of Sean's car, launching his vehicle off the cliff...and it was headed right towards them.

Sean broke out in a sweat, "Michelle!" he stated, "Hurry! Help me get Rick out from under the car!"

They both rushed to pull the tarp with Rick's body on top of it, out from the wrecked vehicle. It was at that instant that Rick opened his eyes in time to see Sean and Michelle dragging him from the vehicle.

He smiled lazily at a hard-breathing Michelle, "Angel! You're still by my side!"

Rick could tell they were looking up above him and he also turned to see what caught their attention. His eyes became as big as saucers at the sight of the airborne vehicle, "_What. The. Helllllllllllll..."_

HIs screaming seemed to be drowned out as Sean's vehicle headed their way. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. Sean and Michelle pulled and dragged away Rick along with the tarp as fast as they could from the inevitable crash that was about to occur.

_**BOOOOM!**_

There was a sound like an earth-shattering thunderclap and all three watched as Sean's flying vehicle plowed into the damaged Escalade.

_**Ka-BOOM!**_

Then both vehicles exploded in a huge fire that struck the afternoon sky like a gigantic flaming ball...

.

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	15. Chapter 15

Getting and giving out information

Chapter 15

Rick Thunder arrived at the hospital unconscious. He was suffering from severe dehydration, renal failure, internal bleeding, a few shattered bones and a broken fibula. It will be a while before he would be on his feet again. While Thunder was in the operating room, Sean and Michelle went down to the cafeteria. As they ate their soup and sandwiches, who should come by Agent Rigby.

"Oh boy," he moaned, at seeing them, "I thought it was a big joke when they told me you'd be here because you two found Rick Thunder. I almost wished you hadn't found him just so I wouldn't have to question you two."

"How _do_ you manage to bring so much sunshine into the room each and every time, Rigs?" Sean questioned while Michelle half-smiled.

Rigby ignored the remark as he ruefully sat down and opened his pad, "The way I hear it from the local police, you two were traveling through Interstate 70. That highway doesn't lead anywhere, except either the woods or the Rocky Gap Casino. Now why would you be headed that way?"

Sean and Michelle exchanged looks. They had no intention of telling the FBI about pursuing Romeo Reed.

Michelle looked at him with innocent eyes, "Aren't we entitled to a little fun and recreation, Agent Rigby?"

"Believe me, I've witnessed firsthand the rinky-dink cases you two take," Rigby stated, "No way could you afford going to a casino; unless you plan on playing the nickel slots. I've changed my mind. Make it the penny slots."

"The fun and recreation I was referring to was journeying to the woods; being one with nature, Rigby," Michelle countered.

"Hmmph! That'll be the day!" Rigby was unconvinced.

"So are we done talking about our vacation plans, Rigs?" Sean asked, "May we leave?"

"No, I haven't even _begun_," Rigby's tone was now more insistent, "I want to know what you two are investigating. Also, you two couldn't find yourselves out of a paper sack, so how did you manage to find Rick Thunder down a steep cliff?"

"Is this the part where you hand us a commendation award?" Sean asked.

"No, this is the part where I try to find an excuse to arrest you both to get you out of my hair," Rigby said "so tell me, how did you two even know that someone took a shot at him, causing him to end up down there?"

"Wait...you mean, it wasn't an accident?" Michelle asked, blinking fast, "He didn't blow a tire?"

"That innocent act doesn't work with me, Maxwell," Agent Rigby stated, "We all know this was sabotage. We found a several bullets embedded in the tires of Thunder's Escalade."

Sean let out a low whistle.

"Something you find amazing, King?" Rigby turned his attention to him.

"Nah. I just like to whistle," Sean said, straightfaced.

Rigby let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm giving you one more chance to cooperate, " Agent Rigby re-stated, "What were you doing on that road? How did you two know Thunder would be down there? I know you two are hiding something from me. _Tell me now!_"

Sean and Michelle traded looks again.

"Speaking of _tell,_" Sean changed the subject as he turned towards Michelle, "did you ever tell me our insurance agent's phone number? I still haven't reported our little car accident."

Michelle pretended to look incredulous, "Oh? You mean you still haven't told them how your car went over the cliff and blew up, Sean? Is _that_ the little accident you're referring to?"

"The very same," Sean verified, "and I hate having to call our insurance agent. "

"Oh, I agree," Michelle nodded knowingly, "He's so sensitive. In fact, I'm willing to bet-"

"Forget it,_ forget it!_ You two are useless!" grunted Rigby in frustration, as he got up, "Just do me a favor...try not to find any more corpses or any more broken bodies... and _definitely_ don't be involved in things that blow up!"

Oh, Agent Rigby," Michelle had a mischievous grin, "how could we ever promise you _that?_"

.

They had gone back to the hospital waiting room until Rick was out of surgery. The chairs there were stiff and uncomfortable. Michelle had started out impatiently flipping through a magazine, but soon she grew weary. Giving a yawn, she bowed her head and nodded off.

Sean sneaked a glance her way and smiled sweetly at his partner. She really did have the look of an angel, but right now, she looked like an awkward angel trying to find a way to slumber. Holding his arm out, he placed it around her shoulder and drew her into his chest with stunning tenderness. Now with her head against his chest, she snuggled a bit, as if trying to settle in, sighed and was soon fast asleep again.

Upon holding her, Sean's mouth had gentled and he closed his eyes in bliss. _Why did she feel so perfect in his arms?_ Then before he could think further, he was fast asleep.

.

Michelle was the first to awaken. She opened her eyes and knew she had been asleep on Sean's chest. Instead of getting up, she continued to lean against him in a daze of pleasure, feeling the even rise and fall of his chest. A sense of complete contentment filled her.

Then the nurse came in to tell them that Rick Thunder was in recovery, in stable condition.

Michelle sat up as Sean moved at the sound of the nurse's voice. When he opened his eyes, he looked around, momentarily confused, as if he didn't know where he was. When he caught Michelle's eye, a smile slowly formed on his lips.

"Hey, Sleepyhead." he stretched out, "Were you actually able to get some good sleep?"

She smiled softly she recalled how she had been cocooned by him, "I've never slept more peacefully in my entire life," she admitted.

.

After they checked on Rick, they once more headed out to The Rocky Gap Casino.

Located deep in state park of Cumberland, Maryland, the place had recently undergone a recent makeover and now was considered the ultimate in mega-resort casinos. The lavish hotel and gambling palace evoked a bygone era of elegance, class and exclusivity.

The decadent retreat catered to the high rollers seeking the ultimate in gambling experience. The shimmering golden towers beckoned everyone, but accepted only a privileged few. In other words, was the ideal place for someone like Romeo Reed to hide.

Sean was glad he had rented a Jaguar as he drove up to the valet. At least they arrived in style. Unfortunately the exclusivity extended to the parking lot as far as the attire they were allowed to wear. As Sean and Michelle got out the vehicle, they were immediately met by the valet and the security guard.

The security guard was dressed in a suit and tie, a wire running from inside his jacket to his earpiece.

"I'm sorry, Sir, Miss," the security guard said respectfully, but forcefully, "but we cannot allow you into our resort dressed as you are."

Sean looked down at his blue jeans, shirt and black jacket, "Aw, really now? These are just what we wear when traveling. We can clean up really good if you give us a chance. I mean, come on! It's not as if I drove up wearing a loin cloth and the lady here was wearing two coconuts and a grass skirt!"

The security guard and valet looked haughtily at Sean in distain. Michelle placed her hand lightly on Sean _in a let-me-handle_-it gesture.

"We'd like to see Gregory Mendleson, please," she stated confidently.

The security guard didn't look impressed with the name-dropping, "I'm sorry _Ma'am_," he stated, purposely addressing her as if she were an elder, "but Mr. Mendleson is extremely busy."

"I'd think he's like to see _me_," Michelle held her ground.

"Though I don't doubt that, Ma'am," he stated, his lips now grim, "I think it's best you get back in your rented car. I'm sure there's a casino at Circus Circus in Vegas that can accommodate you two."

He was about ready to step forward to force both of them to leave when something made him abruptly stop. He touched his earpiece, listened and then looked up at the surveillance camera mounted on one of the marble columns.

He gave them an insincere smile, "Follow me, please."

As the glass doors made a grand opening and they entered the massive lobby, Sean leaned over to Michelle.

"Who is this Gregory character you've asked for?" Sean whispered to her, secretly impressed that she had an 'in'.

"Head of security here," Michelle responded in a low voice, "I knew him in the day. We used to work together on a few Secret Service assignments together."

"_And?_" Sean lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, "was it more than a _job_ that you two did _together_?"

"Well, we did go to the zoo, once," she stated, with a cryptic smile.

Sean's mouth dropped.

"Michelle...You mean to say..." he enunciated slowly, "that HE was the one that you did it with in front of the _animals?_"

"Ahem!" the security guard cleared his throat as they came up to a tall man with a buzz cut, square jaw, burly built, wearing an expensive suit. He was standing in the middle of the lobby, obviously waiting for them.

"Thank you, Grady," Gregory dismissed the security guard with a glance, then a smile spread over his face as he reached over and gave Michelle a bear hug.

"Michelle!" He was obviously pleased to see her.

"Hey, Greg! Good to see you!" Michelle returned the hug while Sean scowled.

Gregory released her and gave her the once over, "You truly are more beautiful than the last time I was with you!"

Sean interjected, "The last time you had seen her? Was that in front of the pandas?"

"Sean!" Michelle glared at him.

Gregory eyed Sean suspiciously as Michelle smiled uncomfortably at Mendleson.

"Sorry, Greg. This is Sean King, my business partner" she introduced, "Sean...this is Greg Mendleson."

"Gregory to you," he said stiffly to Sean as they shook hands. He then turned to Michelle, "And Michee, what brings you here to my humble resort?"

Sean turned and secretly mouthed _"Mi-chee_?" to her.

Michelle lifted her hand to uncomfortably fix her hair, "Uh, Greg, is there a place where we can talk where I won't feel so underdressed?" she asked, looking around at all the well dressed patrons.

Gregory smiled, "Of course...we'll go to my office." He turned to Sean, "You can come, too, if you want."

"Quite big of you," Sean stated caustically as he followed them.

Gregory led them to a door which opened to a corridor. At the end of the passageway, the doors opened to a less opulent area. Inside, there was a control room with dozens of flat screen monitors. Individual security agents sat in front of as many as four screens each, viewing gaming tables, dealers and players.

Gregory's office was a few steps above the control room, where a broad window allowed him access to watch the security people below. On his private desk was another set of flat-screen monitors; some showed the casino floor, others were focused on individual technicians in the control room.

"Wow," Sean remarked as he and Michelle sat down, "Even the watchers have watchers."

Gregory sat behind his desk in a large black leather executive chair, "I hope this room will be more comfortable for you."

"Not really," Sean stated honestly.

"This is quite impressive," Michelle smiled diplomatically as she looked all around, "You've done quite well for yourself, Greg."

"This job has allowed me a lifestyle the Secret Service could not afford," he stated, "I drive a Lamborghini, live in a mansion with a swimming pool and I have a trophy wife."

"Oh, so you're married?" Sean inquired, at last showing interest.

"It's the American dream, isn't it?" Mendleson rhetorically asked. Then leaning forward, he asked Michelle, "But some dreams could do with more excitement, you know what I mean?" his eyes spoke volumes.

"I assure you, that I don't, Greg," Michelle's voice was respectful, but firm, "but we're not here to hear about your modest living style."

Mendleson ignored the brush off, "Okay, then, what can I do for you?"

"To be perfectly honest," Michelle said to him, "We need your help in locating a dead man."

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	16. Chapter 16

A Plan

Chapter 16

Gregory Mendelson, the head of security at the famous Rocky Gap Casino, did not react when Michelle told him that she needed his help in finding a dead man. It was almost as if he expected her to say that.

"I'm not sure I can help you, Michee," he said emotionless at his high-tech desk.

"Just, listen, Greg," Michelle told him, "I know you keep detailed files on all your high rollers here at your casino. Not only their names, but the favorite foods, drinks, brands of clothing. I bet you even know their favorite colors."

"We like to keep our customers happy," he admitted, "and the more we know about them, the better we can keep them satisfied."

"Well, we're looking for a specific high roller," Sean interjected.

"Sorry," Gregory turned Sean's way, "but we like to protect the privacy of your guests."

"But this one won't mind," Michelle said, "he's dead."

Gregory stared at her, "Name."

Michelle breathed a sigh of relief, "Romeo Reed."

Gregory swiveled in his chair and worked his keyboard. After a moment, a picture of Romeo Reed showed up with other information.

"Here he is," Gregory showed the screen quickly to them, "It must be true that he's dead because he hasn't been around for almost six months."

"We figured that," Sean acknowledged, "but there's another gambler here. We don't know his name, but he about the same height and built as Romeo Reed. He also likes the same foods and drinks as Romeo Reed."

Gregory remained stone-face, "And you expect me to sift through hundreds of names with that little bit of information to find the guy's name?"

"...he also pays for everything in cash," Michelle piped in, "and he is very secretive about his past. " she looked at him with pleading eyes, "please, Greg, this is very important."

With a sigh, Gregory thought for a moment, came to a decision and began typing on his keyboard. A few moments later, a face and a name appeared on one of the flat-screen monitors. The man depicted in the picture was younger than Romeo with more define features.

"His name is William Remington," Gregory said, "he has an estate just outside of here. He calls himself an investor, though we have no records of his investments. All his cash comes to his Maryland bank via offshore accounts. Mr. Remington enjoys blondes," he looked specifically at Michelle, "and his game preference is poker. He has a three million dollar credit line and plays here almost every weekend."

Michelle squinted at the screen, "This guy _could _be Romeo...after he's had major work done to him, that is."

"Oh," Gregory commented, "so,you're saying Romeo is Remington."

"Yes, and thanks Gregory," Michelle said, "Now all we have to do is get this William Remington's DNA, then run his fingerprints in order to prove that Reed and Remington are one in the same person."

Gregory pointed to Sean, "You mean, it's up to HIM to get the fingerprints," he stated and then he turned to Michelle," and while he does that, you and I will be sharing drinks and dinner. That's the least you could do; you owe me, Michee."

"She doesn't owe you squa-" Sean scowled, as Michelle placed her hand on his arm to calm him.

"You haven't changed much have you," Michelle said to Gregory, "Always tit for tat."

Greg smiled, knowing he won, "Like Remington, I get what a want."

,

_William Remington was on top of the world. He owned mansions, sports cars and a world class wine cellar. He could pay for as many women as he wanted, gorge himself on gourmet food. And of course, he could gamble all night, making fortunes and losing them without a care._

_Of course, he had to pay a price for his dream. He had to abandon his name, imprison his partner, chop off his own big toe and kill anyone who got in the way of his new life. But, it was worth it. His happiness and security were all he cared about now._

And because of those slight sacrifices he made, he now lived the kind of life people only dreamed about.

Back to the present now, he had just lost $20,000 at the poker table, but it didn't bother him. A drop in the bucket for him. As he sat at the bar nursing a bourbon, he was already making plans to call up a woman to his room. Ask for a blonde. No, he thought, make that TWO blondes.

A stranger joined him at the empty bar stool and ordered the same drink.

"I was watching you play. You didn't have a chance at that poker table, you know." Sean commented.

Remington turned and gave Sean a good once over, "I usually drink alone."

Sean pointed to the poker table Remington had just left.

"Just giving you a heads up," Sean continued, "You know that guy who was the winner at your table? He cheated."

That got Remington's attention, "What? The guy cheated on me?"

Sean nodded, " He had marked every face card he got."

Sean casually took a sip of his bourbon. It burned all the way down his throat and he had to force himself not to react.

"How?" Remington wanted to know.

Sean's voice was slightly hoarse, trying to recover from the strong drink, "...His...ring" his voice was rough, "... using the inside of his ring, the guy had been putting a dot on the face cards that were invisible to the naked eye but that he can see with his glasses."

Remington's mind was working a mile a minute. So he didn't actually lose; he was _cheated_ out of his money. Later, he'll call one of his men to beat up that cheating SOB. Remington was pleased. He still had the luck with him.

"Thanks for the tip," he said appreciatively before he narrowed his eyes, "Out of curiosity, how did you know the guy was cheating?"

Sean looked directly at Remington, "I've spent a lifetime studying poker players."

Remington casually took a swig of his drink, "Well, when I get through with that guy, he won't be playing poker any longer."

Sean tried to act casual as he picked up his drink, but his hand was shaking. He didn't want to be the cause of someone getting beat up. Or worse."

"Don't worry," Sean assured Remington, "I've reported him and the guy was already 'taught a lesson' by the casino bosses."

Remington nodded, "Too bad. Well, maybe the guy is lucky after all."

HIs tone made Sean shiver.

"Say, you play?" Remington asked, "Because I've never seen you here before and I am very good with faces."

"I'm banned from playing here," Sean fast-talked, "So I just like to scope out the place" he then added with a wink to Remington, "I'm the best there is."

Remington by nature was cynical so he wasn't buying it, "Too good for the house? I've never heard of that kind of ban from a casino."

Sean shrugged, "Call Greg Mendelson, the head of casino security. He'll verify it."

Remington took out his cellphone, "It just so happened I have Gregory on speed dial," he challenged, watching for a reaction, "and I'm just curious enough to make the call..."

Sean gave him a relax smile. He was glad Michelle had mentioned for Mendelson to back them up with their cover, "Sure...tell Greg...Jimmy King says _hi._"

.

After Remington made the call, his attitude towards Sean changed. Gregory had nothing but good things to say about Sean's card skills. Introductions were made and they sat and chatted for awhile. When Remington left, Sean discreetly took a napkin out and took away the boubon glass that Remington had drank out of. Immediately afterwards, Sean secretly took careful measures to bag the glass, seal it in a box and Priority Air Shipped it to Rigby so that they could run the fingerprints through CODIS. Once they had a match, they could arrest Romeo Reed/ William Remington.

.

Sean was exhausted when he walked into his hotel room. This case was almost done. It was just a waiting game for them now. He was glad he had ordered room service. A rolling service tray had been left in his room. When he lifted the silver domed top, it revealed the house special grilled cheese sandwich.

Ahhh, Edgar would be so jealous over the sandwich, Sean thought fondly. He really missed Edgar and the office. This casino life seemed so...artificial. He went to the mini-bar and took out a bottle of beer.

He looked at his lonely dinner cart...not the most exciting cuisine.

Unlike what Michelle and what's-his-face must be dining on. _That guy was probably trying to put his 'so-called' charms on her and woo her. He could picture them at an intimate dinner with candles as they gaze longingly at one another. They would clink champagne glasses as they discuss their next 'rendezvous' . Maybe they'll meet later on in front of the forest trees. Or next to a boulder or even next to some moss so that the raccoons could see them._

Sean flipped off the lid from his beer bottle and just as he was about to pick up his sandwich, he heard a knock on his door.

Looking around, he picked up a vase. Just in case. For protection. He cautiously positioned his back against the wall, next to the door.

"Who is it?" he questioned.

"Jimmy?" Michelle used his alias name, "It's me, Denise."

Sean smiled. He liked that they were revisiting their former pseudonyms. _Now_, if only they could find something to fight about -that was what made Jimmy and Denise's relationship so special! He placed the vase back down and went to open the door.

"Hey," she greeted him, as she stood outside, "Mind of I come in?"

He was surprised to see her as she walked in. Closing the door behind her, he asked if she wanted a beer and when she did, he went over to the mini-bar to retrieve another bottle for her. Popping off the lid of her bottle, too, he handed the cold drink to her.

"Thanks," she smiled, as she sat on the long white leather sofa. Since there was no other furniture to sit on besides the bed, he elected to sit next to her on the couch.

"I thought you would be out...late..." Sean remarked. He was pleased she was here.

Michelle drank some of her beer.

"We had a nice dinner, is all," she vaguely told him, "shared a few memories."

"Was that the _only_ thing you two shared?" The instant Sean said it, he regretted it.

"Sean, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were actually jealous!"

"Me? Jealous? No way!" he waved the word away, "You know that I'm only concern about your own welfare. Personally, I don't even get what you ever saw in him. The guy is like a robot except a robot has more personality."

Michelle couldn't help it; she smiled. _He really does care about me_, she thought.

"Sean, if you haven't noticed...I can make my own decisions...I'm a grown woman."

In response, he continued to gaze at her, his eyes softening. The way he was looking at her now, caused a ripple of sensation to run up her spine.

"I've _always_ seen you as a woman, Michelle," he admitted, "...always."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle at his response.. Encouraged, Sean reached out and with the tip of his thumb, he brushed her cheek lightly.

His touch caused Michelle to feel the same type of yearning she had felt the last first time they had kissed. She ached to touch him, to be in his arms again...to be totally possessed by him. And he was exactly thinking the same thing.

He leaned in and suddenly his lips covered hers totally, kissing her in a way she'd never been kissed before. A flood of sensations exploded inside her. He tasted of masculine need. When she breathed, he moved with her; his mouth was warm and demanding and giving, all at the same time.

As the kiss deepened, Michelle moaned in response, welcoming the tender exploration of his tongue. Hungrily she began to unbutton his shirt.

_R-r-ring! R-r-ring!_

His senses were reeling so much, that it took two rings for him to even hear his phone ringing. Meanwhile desire sang through their bodies as they continued kissing.

_R-r-ring! R-r-ing!_

The sound was irritating, to say the least.

"N_ooooo,_" he groaned. He forced himself to pull away, "I...I need ...to answer that...It could be Edgar or Rigby..."

With reluctance he shifted his body away from her and picked up his cell phone as Michelle gave a frustrated sigh.

"King, here," he forced the words out, as he closed his shirt while Michelle tried to regain her self-composure.

"Rigby." The voice from the other side tersely stated.

Sean sat up. This was business.

"Rigs, did you receive the glass with the fingerprints already?" Sean questioned, "That must be a world's record...I hope you were able match Remington's DNA to Romeo Reed's."

"Well, you're not going to like what I'm going to say," Rigby warned him, "it's regarding Romeo's DNA."

Sean scowled as Michelle sat up, looking alarmed. Sean then pushed a button on his phone to put it on speaker phone, "Go ahead, Rigby. I've got Michelle here. What about Romeo's DNA?"

"It doesn't exist," Rigby said over the speaker.

"Rigby, that doesn't make sense," Michelle said, "You had previously used Romeo's DNA to prove that the toe and blood you found in Mason's car came from him."

"Yes, we had," Rigby verified, "We had compared it against DNA from hair in Romeo's brush."

"So all that data had been entered into the CODIS database, right?" Sean asked.

"It _was_," Rigby explained, "but there was a clerical error. Someone transposed a digit on the case ID number so that it matched an unrelated case file that was slated for destruction."

Michelle sighed in frustration, "How could the property clerk make such a terrible error? I hope he was appropriately reprimanded."

"Oh, he paid for it, alright," Rigby sounded grim, "He was killed three days after the error was made. Supposedly a home-invasion robbery. "

"...but you don't think so," Sean was filling in the blanks.

"At the time we thought so, but now with you two working this case, it has become highly suspect," admitted Rigby, "So earlier today I pulled the property clerk's financial records. And five days before the DNA had been 'accidentally' destroyed, the clerk had received a twenty-thousand-dollar wire transfer from the Cayman Islands."

"So, you think .the property clerk was purposely killed to cover up him transposing the numbers on Romeo's file?" Michelle asked.

"The pieces fit, don't they?" Rigby responded.

Sean and Michelle exchanged looks. How could they ever prove that Romeo Reed and Remington were the same person? If he were the same person, he had certainly played it smart. He had anticipated all the moves, wiping away any tracks that could lead to him.

William Remington was going to get away with murder.

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_Almost finished! Just hang on a little longer!_


	17. Chapter 17

Jimmy and Denise

Chapter 17

William Remington was in his own realm whenever he visited the Rocky Gap Casino. The only thing that matter here was the color green. As in money. Because money meant power. It made him unanswerable to anyone.

He was now on the phone with security manager, Gregory Mendelson, who told him his regular masseuse would not be available.

"You _know_ I always go with Ingrid," Remington told Mendelson on the phone, "she is very good at...let's just say, attending to my needs."

"I assure you, Mr. Mendelson, that if Ingrid were available, I'd send her right to you. But sometimes real life steps in the form of an emergency and that is exactly what happened to her," Mendelson sounded very professional, "However, Denise is one of our favorite masseuses. You will not be disappointed. I guarantee it."

Remington would not be so easily appeased, "I thought I'd pay you the big bucks so that I could get whatever -or whomever- I wanted!"

"Of course, Mr. Remington and you have my most sincere apologies," Mendelson continued in his ever-efficient professional mode, "so If you prefer, I'll have Ingrid come to you _tomorrow_."

_He would have to wait until tomorrow? _ NEVER!

"No, that will NOT do! I'm in my robe already and I need a rubdown NOW," Remington did not sound happy, "Just go ahead and send in this...this Debbie, Darleen, or whoever she is...but she better be GOOD!"

"Very well, Mr. Remington, as you wish. I'll send _Denise_ right up to your reserved room. Have a pleasant afternoon. Good-bye."

Remington hung up. The audacity of Ingrid not to keep her appointment with him! Looks like he'll have to play some slap and tickle with her the next time he sees her, with the emphasis on the slap. He chuckled at his own joke.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Remington commanded.

Michelle/Denise entered, wearing a masseuse's tight white top and pants, the uniform showing off all her curves to the maximum.

"Hello, Mr. Remington. My name is Denise."

Remington looked her up and down. This one was a real looker. She made Ingrid look downright ugly, he thought, as he began to take off his robe, revealing only boxers.

"Well, Mendelson sure knows how to pick them!" he leered at her, "If you are half as good at your job as your looks, I'll be in good hands!"

He got onto the massage table, letting his head rest on the padded hole towards the front of the cushion. Meanwhile Denise threw a huge white towel over the lower part of Remington's torso while at the same time wishing it was a white tent, instead. Or better yet, a ring of fire.

Remington was getting excited by this blondie. Maybe it _was_ GOOD to switch around every once in awhile.

"So, tell me something, Honey... you Swedish, too?" he asked.

"I shop at Ikea -does _that_ qualify?" Denise asked sweetly.

Remington let out a hearty laugh, "You better watch it or I may just fall in love with you, Little Lady."

"If charm were time, Mr. Remington, you'd be eternity," Michelle lied with a tone sugar-coated while secretly rolling her eyes.

He laughed again.

"Oh, we are going to have sooo much fun later on!" he stated, "but for now, do my back, Honey, and keep the pressure consistent."

Michelle felt like choking when she saw his back. It was hairy. As in _gorilla_ hairy. Well, the sooner she began the massage, the sooner it would end. She opened the massage oil bottle and poured some on her hands. She looked at his back with disdain.

Luckily she had knowledge of Japanese massages when she had been stationed there for a job assignment. Closing her eyes as much as she can, she skillfully used localized finger pressure in a rhythmic sequence throughout Remington's back.

_"Oooooooo,"_ he groaned immediately.

She held each point on the acupuncture meridians of his body for five seconds in order for energy to flow throughout his body.

"Ahhhh" Remington groaned, "oooooohhhhh...ahhhh," he kept moaning as his body regained balance.

Michelle began to stare at the walls, "Please let me know if it's too much pressure, Mr. Remington," she tried to keep her lunch down, "I wouldn't want to torture you... That would be an _extra_ charge."

"hahahaha..." he started to laugh, but as she continued to massage him, the chuckling reverted to moans again, "ohhhh ahhhhh...that feels gooood, Honey..." he closed his eyes in blissfulness.

Michelle continued to apply the pressure, knowing if she stopped, he would insist on other 'activities'. Unfortunately, Remington was thinking along the same lines. He was starting to get turned on by Denise's closeness.

"Enough!" he yelled out in the middle of her rub down, "STOP!"

Michelle had no option but stop. Her hands were getting tired anyway. Rolling oily fat was harder than rolling muscle. Remington sat up, shirtless, his lascivious eyes looking her over.

"Mr. Remington," Denise sputtered, "I...I wasn't finished with your massage..."

"Oh, you are_ done_ alright, Honey" he said, as he reached out and grabbed her by the waist, "Now it's time you make me feel REALLY good... down _there_..."

"No, really..."

Michelle could easily fight him off, but Sean made her promise that she would not use any type of violence against Remington. It may be a promise she could not keep. Remington still had a hold of her hand now and began to pull it down to his lower torso...

"Mr. Remington, PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME DO THAT!"

Michelle purposely yelled outloud in the hope Sean, who was on the other side of the door, could hear her. Meanwhile it was a struggle of strength, almost like arm wrestling as Michelle fought against Remington placing her hand where he wanted.

As they wrestled, she heard the sound of something hard hitting the door outside. Or someone. _Sean_. He was trying to break open the door with no success. The door held firm. Damn it!

"You're as strong... as an ox, Honey!" Remington heaved, edging her hand closer to his privates, "but you better quit playing and...**give. me. what. I. want!"**

Suddenly-

_BLAAAAM!_

The door burst opened, surprising Remington.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Remington's face was red with anger, the struggling now halted.

Sean/Johnny stomped through the open doorway.

"THERE YOU ARE!" Jimmy barked out, pointing accusingly at Denise, and then rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Jimmy!" bellowed a perturbed Remington, "This is a private room! Get the hell out of here before I call security!"

"Not until I leave with my girlfriend!" Jimmy huffed back, pointing at Denise.

"Your.._.girlfriend!?_" Remington's tone was incredulously angry. He glared at Denise before eyeing Jimmy again.

"Or what's _left of her!"_ Jimmy claimed, "what with her surgery-inflated lips, botoxed eyes and enhanced boob job, I don't even recognize her anymore! And that doesn't even take into account her fake cheek implants-and I don't mean _on the_ _face_!"

Both Remington and Denise/Michelle gasped. She quickly recovered.

"Oh_ yeah,_ Jimmy?" Denise improvised, going up to Jimmy's face, "Well, all this so-called _work_ I've had done...I did it for YOU! _Did you hear me?_ FOR YOU, Jimmy! But did you appreciate it? Oh, NOOOOO! You never appreciated _anything_ I've done for you...I've cooked, cleaned, and now _injected_ for you! But it's _still_ wasn't enough, was it? You're just mad 'cuz I've gotten myself a career now!"

"You call THIS a career?" Jimmy shouted a retort, "This is one level above being a stripper!"

Denise gasped again, or maybe that was Michelle, "How DARE you!" She picked up the bottle of massage oil, "I'm gonna smash this bottle in your face, Jimmy!"

"Oh, like you haven't done THAT before!" Jimmy yelled back.

With their faces so close to each other and their emotions running so high, both of them were feeling the exact opposite of what their words were saying. They were actually thinking the other one looked seductive when angry.

Sean's gaze was intense, He was trying to show anger, but internally he was taking in the sharp angles of her cheekbone, the sensual shape of her lips, the stormy colors of her eyes. She looked alluring. Even the way she was yelling at him sent her pulse racing. His mouth watered in response with each word she screamed.

Michelle's furious demeanor outside was starting to evolve into a raging inferno of desire inside. The sexy way he had shouted the words 'cheek implants' almost made her swoon.

However, they were interrupted by Remington who got up and irately wrapped the towel around his waist. He was shaking his finger with anger.

"YOU TWO ARE BOTH DEAD MEAT! "

Both of them turned slowly towards Remington, almost forgetting that they had been playing a role.

"But, Mr. Remington," Denise said meekly, "you said I was good..."

"You have done nothing but _upped_ my stress level!" Remington bitterly exclaimed, "And believe me, when I get through with you, you'll never work in massage again!" he threatened Denise.

Meanwhile Sean seized the opportunity. With Remington's attention focused on a distressed Denise, Sean secretly removed a hypodermic needle from his pocket and quickly stabbed Remington on his arm. One second Remington was yelling at Michelle and the next minute his eyes rolled in the back of his head and his body collapsed.

"No one yells at my fake girlfriend like that!" Sean announced to the unconscious body while still holding onto the needle.

"Yeah, you tell him, Jimmy!" Michelle cheered him on.

They looked down at the half-naked crumpled body down on the floor, right at their feet.

Sean reacted first, "He's out."

Michelle gave Sean another look of annoyance.

_"What?_?" Sean asked, unaware.

I didn't appreciate all that talk about me having work done!" she told him, hands on her hips.

"Really? Michelle? You're upset about _that?_ It's only a role I was playing!" Sean countered, thinking he was getting picked on unnecessarily, "So don't you DARE raise your voice at me!"

"NOoo! YOU stop yelling at ME!" she shouted back, her eyes blazed.

They now stood face to face, toe to toe. Sean angrily stood taller, trying to tower over Michelle, his jaw clenched. He was shaking, obviously working to control himself.

"Do you realize..." he began slowly, his anger simmering...How ultimately TURNED-ON I am right now?"

"Oh yeah?" she vented, her lips so close to his, "Not HALF as _turned on_ as me!" The beating of her heart was loud.

"You think so, Michelle?" he snapped, 'because I'm talking 'RAGING- FIRE' kind of **HOT** over here!" his breathing was getting heavy.

"I passed that stage two minutes ago, Sean!" she angrily shot back, her breathing also erratic.

"A furnace would be needed to cool me down!" he growled.

She narrowed her eyes, "DROP DEAD..."

Sean looked stunned, "Er, wait... _Drop Dead_?," he tried to reason what she said, as his voice returned to normal, "Okay...I'm no poet, Michelle, but that was rather harsh wasn't it?" he tried to shrug it off, "I mean, talk about _mixed messages_..."

Michelle lifted one brow, "Not YOU drop dead, Sean! When you put that needle in Remington, HIS body dropped dead..."

She pointed down at her feet and they looked down again at Remington fallen body.

"Oh yeah... HIM." Sean murmured ruefully.

"We can't leave him like this..." Michelle said as she looked at the body with aversion, "well, we _could_, but he would make one ugly, hairy doorstop."

"Come on, help me get Remington up" Sean said, bending down and reluctantly lifting up one side of Remington, while Michelle heaved the other side up, "and let's give him what he deserves."

.

Much later, Remington's eyelids were heavy. He was coming to. Opening his eyes, he looked around the unfamiliar room. Strange, he was in a hospital room.

He turned to his left and instantly recognized his roommate. Rick Thunder was lying in the hospital bed reading a magazine. One of his legs was in a cast, his wounds dressed, and an IV stand next to him.

Thunder turned his head, "Welcome to hell," he greeted, before turning back to his magazine, although it looked to be the centerfold, for he had turned the magazine lengthwise.

"Thunder?" H-how did you,... Remington looked confused and shocked, "...you're _alive?"_

"You think running my car down a canyon could kill me?" Thunder asked as he padded his stomach, "See this flab here, it's actually a protective covering for my rock solid abs!"

Remington turned away in disgust. So Thunder's alive. Well, at least there's no proof that he had hired someone to shoot Thunder's car down a cliff. Remington began to relax at the thought.

As he stretched out on the hospital bed, something felt funny, strange about his body. At first he couldn't quite put his finger on it...then he realized...it was his toe...it felt...it felt...unwrapped...

The hospital door opened. Remington quickly looked over there, hoping it would be a nurse telling him he had been hallucinating. But it was no nurse. It was worse. In walked none other than Jimmy and Denise.

Remington gave them a hateful glare, "_What did you two do to me?_"

"It's what you did to yourself," Michelle said, "you cut off your own toe in order to frame your business partner, Barry Mason of your murder. Then you killed others to cover up that fact."

"Yeah," agreed Sean, "And all the FBI had to do was match the cut- off toe to your foot."

Remington scowled, "The FBI?"

And with perfect timing, the door swung open again and in walked Rigby.

"Agent Rigby, FBI," he said, displaying his badge.

"WHAT?" Remington looked confused and still angry.

Sean cupped his hands and acted as if Remington was hard of hearing as he yelled out, "He _said_ he's AGENT RIGBY OF THE FBI!" then Sean leaned into Remington and in a low tone, added, "and if you haven't figured it out, he's come to arrest you, Remington."

Michelle was grinning the whole time.

Rigby calmly handcuffed the wrist of an uncooperative Remington to the hospital bed railing, "William Remington, you're under arrest for the murder of Stu Johnson (file clerk), Dr. James Calloway (plastic surgeon) , and the attempted murder of Rick Thunder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say..."

After Rigby recited the Miranda rights, he turned to Sean and Michelle.

"Sean...Michelle...thanks," Rigby stated in a rare moment of appreciation.

"Whooo?" Remington sputtered, "Y-you don't even know who the hell these people!" he then pointed his free finger accusingly at Sean and Michelle, who looked at Remington wide-eyed, "That's Jimmy, the abusive card shark and Denise, the plastic- faced masseuse!" he claimed.

Everyone turned for Rigby's reaction.

"Tell me something I don't know," he deadpanned.

Sean and Michelle exchanged relieved glances.

It was really over.

.

_Last chapter coming up at last!_

_Please review!_


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